


Black Roses

by Meg_Thilbo



Series: Stone Hearts [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bilbo meets smaug before the quest, Bittersweet Ending, Death, Dwarves have Ones, Emotionally Constipated Thorin, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Partial Fix-It, Pining, Secrets, Skippable Smut, Slow Burn, Softie Thorin, Soul Bond, Thilbo Bagginshield - Freeform, Violence, alternative universe, bagginshield, messing with the timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-04 02:38:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 101,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4122801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meg_Thilbo/pseuds/Meg_Thilbo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo's mother had told Bilbo of a stone she had found in the Misty Mountains, a blood red stone of unknown origins. She'd brought it back to the Shire as Gandalf promised to research more into the stone. 14 years on, Bilbo's parents have died and he finds the stone in a chest and he quickly learns this stone is not a stone at all, but an egg! He raises Smaug from a dragonling, keeping him a secret from the Shire. But one day, Smaug flies away and he doesn't come back. Disheartened, Bilbo continues with his life. But when, after 30 years, a company of dwarves invades his home and declares they need help retaking their home from a fearsome dragon who had taken it 10 years previous, Bilbo joins the quest to challenge his old friend. He must help the dwarves retake their home but complications arise as he falls for their leader. Can Bilbo save Erebor from Smaug without the need for killing? Can a small hobbit prevent a war and save Thorin from madness? He must risk everything to right the mess, he believes, he started with the hatching of that egg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This fic is going to be a long summer project for me, I have the whole story planned out in basic plot points and ending but if you have any requests of things you would like to see on this adventure, feel free to comment and let me know! This will contain Thilbo eventually but the first few chapters will deal with Bilbo raising Smaug and then the rest will be about the quest and their relationship. I may skip sections of the story which are consistent with the original plot but I'll try and keep the pacing going well. Now on with the story!
> 
> Edit: This is my new cover for this fic- I hope you like it :) you can find me on tumblr here: http://meg-thilbo.tumblr.com/

 

 

Bilbo carefully trimmed the grass and the wildflowers growing over two lowly mounds atop a hill in the Shire. Pulling out weeds as he did so and clearing moss which was slowly taking over the central stone, almost covering the lettering etched across its face:

_Here Lies Bungo and Belladonna Baggins_

_Beloved parents and treasured friends_

_May Yavanna welcome them into her fields of bliss,_

_and their souls rest for evermore_

It had been 6 months since Bilbo had lost both his parents in the Fell Winter after they had fallen ill and not had the strength to recover. Many Hobbits had died that winter, Bilbo was not the only one left orphaned but he was the only one who had ended up living alone. Most hobbits had moved in with family members but Bilbo could not bring himself to leave Bag-End, not after his father had built it for his mother. It was all he had left of them. His cousin Drogo visited often, but Bilbo kept mostly to himself, he’d already had to wrestle several spoons from the Sackville-Baggins’s pockets and he feared who else may be after his parent’s wealth now that it lay in the hands of a vulnerable young hobbit. At 20, Bilbo was not quite an adult but the mayor had conceded that he was mature enough to manage Bag-End himself.

 

Sighing to himself, he traced the outline of the words with his fingers, enjoying the feel of the stone beneath his touch. Putting away his tools into his satchel, he got up and slowly descended the hill, heading towards his home. He’d decided at long last, he would go through some of his mother’s and father’s possessions. He’d been unable to look at them for weeks and had not been able to open the chests filled with trinkets from his mother’s adventures. The memories had been too painful.

 

Reaching Bag-End, Bilbo unlocked the door and stepped inside, shivering at the cold which had set into the walls in his absence. He walked through to the main living area and crouched down to get a fire going. When he finally got a fire roaring happily, he stood and went to the cupboard to pull out the first of his mother’s chests. Sitting in front of the fire he opened the chest and examined its contents.

 

The first item was a flute; it had been gifted to his mother from the Elves of Rivendell. It was beautifully carved, made of polished white wood with what appeared to be vines of ivy running around the middle. He smiled as he recalled his father playing it whilst he and his mother would dance around the room, laughing. His mother had taught him to dance whilst his father had taught him to play. Blowing on the flute, he flittered out a few notes before setting it down. Tears pricked at his eyes and his chest constricted at the memories, but he would not let his tears fall, he did not want to break down before he’d even started.

Digging into the chest again, he pulled out a map of middle earth. His mother’s writing was scrawled across it, places she’d been, routes through the mountains she’d taken. He traced them with his finger, from the Shire, through Rivendell and all the way up into the Misty Mountains. He remembered the stories she’d tell of Elves, _a mighty and proud race_ she’d called them. ‘ _Taller than any man and twice the wit,’ she’d say_ , ‘ _but be wary of seeking their advice’ she’d warned_ _‘for they will answer you both yes and no’._ After that, Bilbo had run off to the Old Forest to look for them in the trees but only finding a rather disgruntled doe and several squirrels chattering in the canopy. He’d come back home trailing mud and twigs after which his mother had wrestled him into a bath.

 

Reaching into the chest, Bilbo’s fingers met a hard but smooth resistance. Peering in, he saw a blood red stone, about the size of a watermelon he reckoned as he pulled it out. He’d only seen this once he remembered; his mother had sat him on his lap as she recalled her discovery of the stone. ‘ _Now my son’, she’d said, ‘I was traversing the Misty Mountains with my old friend Gandalf, you remember Gandalf don’t you?_ _He’s the one who makes all those wonderful firework... anyway, there we were, just crossing into the Ettenmoors when what would come crashing down the side of the mountain, but this great red stone! Nearly knocked us off the mountainside’ she’d declared_ , _Bilbo’s young eyes widening in shock as he’s become enthralled in the story. ‘We didn’t know what to make of it, Gandalf assumed it was a relic of the dwarves. A craftsman had likely thrown it out after not being pleased with the result. Dwarves are very proud of their craft don’t you know. So I brought it home with me whilst Gandalf promised he’d do more research into its origins, he knew I’d keep it safe until he returned.’ She’d smiled then, her eyes misting over in memories of her adventures. ‘And now you can have your adventures, my son, you can travel even further than me, make it even as far as the Lonely Mountain you could. But don’t travel to Mordor,’ she’d warned, her voice dipping low, ‘dark creatures live there, Fell Beasts and Wargs who would make a meal out a young hobbit like you!’ Bilbo had gasped in shock and Belladonna had proceeded to tickle him until he had tears running down his cheeks. His father had come home to the sound of laughter filling the halls of their home._

Snapping out of his reverie, Bilbo chuckled at the memory and looked back down at the stone in his lap. Deep red lines webbed their way across its surface, almost like veins he mused, tracing them with his fingers. The stone was cold to the touch, almost as though it sucked all the warmth from his fingers but when Bilbo retraced the veins, he found them warm. It had surprisingly retained his heat. Curious Bilbo placed it in front of the fire and studied how the flames danced across the reflected surface. It looked rather nice on his hearth he conceded, and decided to leave it there as decoration if nothing else. Gandalf had not returned with news of the stone, in fact, Bilbo had not seen him since his 5th birthday. A year before his mother had told him about the stone.

 

Reaching out to turn the stone to a more agreeable position, he snapped his hands back as soon as his hands touched the surface. It was so hot! He was shocked, how had it gained so much heat so quickly? Frowning, Bilbo looked down at his hands. They were an angry red and throbbed in pain. Rushing to the kitchen, Bilbo held his hands under the tap and sighed in relief as the water cooled his blistering skin. He hoped they didn’t scar, it could make gardening awkward he thought anxiously. When he felt his skin had cooled enough, he walked back into the lounge and sat in his father’s armchair. He wasn’t going to get any more work done tonight with his hands like this. He’d wait for the fire to die down and then go to bed he decided. But after a few moments of soaking in the warmth of the fire, his eyelids began to droop and his head lolled on his chest as his mind fogged into blissful sleep.

 

Next to the fire, the stone shifted and rocked slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think so far :) only my second fic so still getting into the swing of things. Next chapter should be up around next week depending on my exams. I'll try and keep chapter length consistent, or at least this long. Any grammar or spelling errors, please let me know ^_^ x Kudos are love, kudos are life xxx


	2. Smaug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo meets Smaug and decides what he should do with him.

Bilbo woke to the sound of scratching. Oh Yavanna, he hoped he didn’t have rats, they were a menace in the shire, chewing into the wood of their smials and eating through their pantries.

 

As he sat up, he winced at the stiffness in his neck and the dulled soreness of his hands. Damn, he’d fallen asleep in front of the fire. It’s a good thing he still has a smial, rat infested or not. He rubbed the back of his neck and blearily opened his eyes, trying to find the source of the noise. _It was so dark!_ The room was illuminated by a few dying embers in the hearth and Bilbo scrunched up his eyes, trying to focus on the room around him. The scratching was coming from near the hearth and Bilbo’s eyes searched the area, widening in surprise, his stone had smashed! How could that have happened? Surely the heat from the fire couldn’t do that much damage?

 

Frowning, Bilbo got up, stretched out his stiff limbs and reached for a lamp on his coffee table. Once it was lit, Bilbo could see the room much more clearly. He crouched down by the fireplace, setting the lamp next to him. He couldn’t hear the scratching anymore. Mindful of his hands, he reached out and carefully picked up one of the shards, his heart sinking, he hadn’t wanted to break one of his mother’s possessions. He turned the shard over in his hand, examining it. The stone had been hollow it would seem. What manner of stone would be hollow? The outside was how he remembered it, deep red and webbed, but the inside seemed to be coated in a sticky red membrane.

 

Bilbo pulled his hand back from the inside and looked down at the wetness on his hand. Blood. But it wasn’t his own, the blisters on his palms had remained intact at least. He heard a scurrying to the right. Whirling round, Bilbo tried to catch sight of what beast had invaded his smial. He could see the silhouette of a creature under his table; it looked small, no bigger than a cat he reckoned. Far too large for a rat though, he thought. He slowly reached behind him for his lamp, he didn’t want to spook the creature and end up having a wide goose chase through his home. Pulling the lamp forward, he illuminated the area under his table. A gasp left him and he jumped in surprise, landing on his backside.

 

The creature studied him with bright orange eyes, red scales glinting slightly in the light. Bilbo met its eyes and stared back with his mouth dropping open into a small ‘o’. The creature shifted slightly, moving on its two hind-legs and using its wings for support as it crawled towards Bilbo who shuffled back in response. The creature froze and darted its tongue out tasting the air. Bilbo’s mind felt like a jumbled mess, where had this creature come from? And what was it? Then it dawned on Bilbo, turning away from the creature for a moment, he looked between it and the shattered stone. No, not a stone, an egg! But why now? This egg had been in his family’s possession for over two decades, surely it should have hatched long before this point. Perhaps the warmth of the fire had been enough to push it towards hatching he mused; reptiles always seemed to enjoy heat. Now Bilbo racked his brain, going through all the stories his mother had told him of the strange creatures she had seen and heard of in her travels. ‘ _Scaled and terrible beasts live in the Grey mountains’ she’d told him, ‘I have not seen one myself, but I have heard their cries from miles away... the screams of them fighting each other for their hoards. For dragons have a deep and jealous love of gold and gems, rivalling that of even the dwarves.’_

 

Dragons? His blood ran cold. He had a dragon in his home. What was he going to do? His mother had warned him of the evil which lay in the black hearts of dragons. They would do anything to protect what lay dear to them. Their words were bewitching, their claws and teeth powerful enough to bring down an entire race whilst they breathed fire on all who opposed them. Panicking he thought, he could leave the dragon outside, take it into the woods and leave it there... even in the summer, at such a young age, the dragon would not survive. He could forget about the stone, forget about this dragon and be as a respectable hobbit should. But as Bilbo looked at the dragon, he could not help but feel a shred of guilt at his brutal thoughts. It blinked up at him but then it seemed to grow bored and it started to clean the last of the membrane from its flank. It was just a baby, how could Bilbo condemn it before it had even had the chance to grow? Maybe not all dragons were terrible, he rationalised, maybe this one could be tamed. His Tookish side won out, he could actually do this.

 

He’d have to keep him a secret from the rest of the Shire he realised, if they found out about him they’d kill him for sure. If it was a _him_ that is, he couldn’t tell. He knew so little about dragons as it is let alone the differences between sex or how big they grew or even what they ate. Looking at the sharp fangs which caught the light as the dragonling cleaned himself, Bilbo guessed that meat was on top of the list of things he’d eat. Maybe it was hungry? It hadn’t had anything to eat and Eru knows how long he’d been walking about his living room whilst Bilbo slept oblivious.

 

He got up slowly, he wasn’t sure yet how this creature was going to respond to him, whether it would snap at him or continue treating him with indifference, he did not know. But he didn’t seem aggressive Bilbo conceded. As Bilbo stretched to full height, the dragon paused in his grooming and stared up at him, having to crane his skinny neck.

 

Clearing his throat, "Er... Stay," he said firmly, hoping the creature would at least be able to understand his tone if not his words. It blinked up at him as he backed away, heading towards the kitchen, "Stay here," he repeated, feeling slightly daft talking to a dragon, "I’ll be right back," he added, muttering, then turned on his heel as he rushed into the kitchen. 

 

Reaching the pantry, Bilbo leant against the wall and tried to calm his erratic heart, the events of the night finally catching up with him as he placed a hand over his chest. C’mon Bilbo, pull yourself together he told himself, he’d figure this out somehow.

 

Once he felt calmer, he pushed himself off the wall and rummaged in the shelves of his pantry, pulling out a joint of ham. Picking up a knife from another shelf, he carried it into the kitchen and froze. The dragon had followed him, and it now sat on his floor, staring greedily at the ham Bilbo held under his arm. It shrieked then, flapping its wings impatiently as it took unsteady steps towards Bilbo.

 

Bilbo jumped slightly at the noise and, feeling a little brave, he held a hand up towards the creature, palm outwards, as he would to a dog. "Wait," he commanded, "you can’t have all of it, you’ll be sick," he added, "Let me at least cut some off for you." To his surprise, the dragon stopped and cocked its horned head to one side, listening to his voice. It understood something at least, Bilbo mused.

 

Skirting around the creature, he placed the ham on his worktop and set about cutting a small and thin piece from the edge where the meat was softest. He wasn’t sure how much its small stomach would be able to take and Bilbo didn’t want to overfeed it or for it to get food stuck. Holding the meat, he looked down at the creature who had snuck up on his left, sitting slightly more than an arms-length away. Feeling nervous, Bilbo lightly tossed the meat in its general direction. The dragon jumped to attention immediately, and snapped the meat of the air with playful growl. It chewed and swallowed then looked at Bilbo as if to say, well that was lovely, what next? Allowing himself a small smile, Bilbo cut off a piece about the same size and again, tossed it to the dragon, making him jump higher into the air for it. The dragon seemed to be enjoying the game he reckoned.

 

Feeling bold, Bilbo cut off two final pieces and crouched down in front of the dragon. He held the meat between his fingers and stretched out his arm carefully towards the dragon who flinched at the proximity but did not take his eyes away from the ham.

 

"It’s okay," Bilbo soothed, staying as still as he could whilst the dragon seemed torn between the prospect of food and allowing Bilbo close to him. The creature took a small step forward, tiny claws scratching at the wooden floor. He took another step and stretched his neck towards Bilbo’s hand, eyes flitting up to Bilbo’s face as he assessed whether Bilbo was a threat. He closed his tiny mouth around the ham and pulled gently and Bilbo let him have it, pleased he seemed to have made progress with the creature. Perhaps it could be tamed after all.

 

He took out the other piece and held it out again. The dragon was much quicker in taking the meat, seeming to trust Bilbo a little more. Whilst his new pet chewed on his meal, Bilbo stretched out his hand further and ran a gentle finger down the dragon’s neck. The dragon flinched back in response but did not move out of reach. "It’s okay," Bilbo repeated in the same soothing tone and the dragon’s eyes flittered up to meet Bilbo’s. Tentatively, Bilbo reached out again and this time the dragon did not move as Bilbo ran his thumb along its neck. Its scales were warm but incredibly rough, like a stone which had been left out in the sun. Moving to the dragon’s wing, he felt the membrane running between its digits. It was incredibly thin, he could see tiny blood vessels running through it and it reminded Bilbo of the patterning on the egg.

 

Retracting his hand, Bilbo sat back on his heels and studied the dragon who was equally regarding him curiously. "You need a name," he declared. But what do you name a dragon? He couldn’t exactly name him something like Bluebell, that didn’t exactly fit the terrifying monster he was made out to be. He racked his brain for a name, going through his favourite childhood books; perhaps he could name him after one of his old heroes.

 

"Endor?" he suggested. Endor was the name of an elf from the second age, he had led the charge against the Orc army and turned the tides of war, saving hundreds of lives and ending the battle with an Elvish victory.

 

The dragon narrowed his eyes at him and smoke puffed out his nostrils. " _Okay okay,_ not Endor..." he agreed, furrowing his brow in concentration.

 

"What about Bregor?" Bregor had been a knight of the race of men, renowned for his bravery as he faced down a mountain troll, cutting off its head with a swing of his mighty sword and taking it as a trophy.

 

He responded by narrowing his eyes further, nope okay not Bregor then.

"Er... Haleth?" Haleth was a woman’s name but since he didn’t know what the dragon was, sex wise, he might as well try everything. She’d been a proud and noble ruler, taking her father’s mantle after he died in battle. She’d had no brother’s so the title passed to her.

 

Bilbo got another puff of smoke in response and what could have been a spark. "Don’t burn my house down... just give me a minute, let me think..."

 

Desperate, Bilbo tried again, "Smaug?" Smaug had been a servant of Melkor, a demon who had served under him for many years before turning on Melkor, aiming to kill the Ainur. He had failed and had faded out of existence as Melkor defeated him in a duel. No-one knew what had made Smaug turn on Melkor, some speculated that the Valar had made him a deal, others said he was simply fed up being Melkor’s servant and meant to take the throne himself to become the next Dark Lord. Some even speculated that Smaug had fallen in love with one of the Valar and that his challenge of Melkor was meant to prove his love and win her heart. Bilbo preferred the versions where Smaug hadn’t wanted the throne but had acted out of something close to goodness. Bilbo believed there was some good in everybody, even the Sackville-Baggins’s.

 

The dragon blinked at him in response and Bilbo took it as confirmation. "Smaug it is," he said smiling. He yawned then, the events of the night had been truly exhausting, it’s not every day you find out that a family possession was actually a dragon egg after all. He stood and stretched, working the cramp out of legs that had set in from being crouched in an awkward position so long.

 

He picked up the ham and put it back in the pantry to keep cool, placing the knife in the sink, as he went, to be washed in the morning. Turning around, he saw Smaug had followed him around the smial.

 

"C’mon Smaug, time for bed, don’t set fire to my home whilst I’m sleeping though, or it’s no more ham for you," he warned. Smaug just blinked at him, why was he talking to a dragon like it could understand? He thought to himself, shaking his head.

 

Sighing he walked through out of kitchen through the lounge to pick up the lamp and headed towards his bedroom. He looked back to make sure Smaug was following him, although he could hear the sound of his claws clicking on the floor surface. He entered the bedroom and set the lamp down on his bedside table and shut the door to make sure Smaug didn’t decide to have an adventure in the middle of the night. He slipped out of his clothes and pulled on a nightshirt and then looked around for something he could give Smaug for a bed. Taking a cushion off his chair, he placed it in front of his bedside table and gestured at it. "You can sleep there if you like," he said to the dragon who was still sat next to the door, watching him with curious orange eyes. Smaug did not make to move towards it, "...Or not, suit yourself," Bilbo sighed, he was too tired to deal with stubborn dragons.

 

Slipping into bed, he sighed as he finally relaxed into the mattress, all tension leaving his body. He curled on his side, into a fetal position, slowly slipping off into sleep. On the edges of sleep, he was dimly aware of a smaller form curling up next to him, the quilt being pulled slightly towards the other being. But he could not find himself to care where Smaug slept, just so long as he let him claim back the time he’d lost acquainting himself with his new pet.

 

His breathing slowed and he slipped off into a peaceful sleep with his new companion by his side.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been delighted by the response so far, THANK YOU to everyone who has left Kudos, commented, bookmarked and/or subscribed :) It makes the effort worth it. I hope you enjoyed the new chapter, out much earlier than I thought it would be, I managed to get some free time to write. Not sure whether or not I'm happy with it but, anyways, let me know what you think  
> As regards the name stuff, I made all that up, I picked up the names off a website and from Tolkein's work.
> 
> Next Chapter: Wednesday! Bilbo deals with the problems that arise when he shares his home with a dragon
> 
> We'll have one more chapter of Bilbo and Smaug (it's a long one) then we'll skip forward in time to see what Thorin is up to in Erebor and have some action, then we'll skip time again to get on with the quest :) I'm quite excited to write this, I'm especially looking forward to writing particular future chapters I have in mind ;) I hope the pacing is ok, I'll try and adjust according to feedback =^-^= Have a majestic day!


	3. Dragon sized Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo realises living with a dragon is not all it's cracked up to be.

Smaug grew surprisingly quickly under Bilbo’s care. Within a month, he was already the size of a large dog and had the appetite to match. Bilbo was starting to struggle to feed him; he could only buy so much meat at market without the other Hobbits growing suspicious, several had already had asked him whether he was having a party. No, just feeding a fire breathing carnivore with a foul temper, but do stop round for tea if you like he wanted to reply. Half of him wanted to see what Lobelia would make of Smaug, he remembered her shrieking when he’d put a frog down her top when they were fauntlings. Seeing a dragon would probably do her in he thought, but he moved his mind on to other things, it wouldn’t do for him to be thinking of more arguments of why he should introduce them.

 

Thankfully Smaug hadn’t started breathing fire yet but his nostrils did smoke dangerously when he grew irritated. He couldn’t keep Smaug in his smial once he did; the vast majority of his possessions were flammable, including all his favourite books and waistcoats. He needed a solution to his dragon problem and fast, food and space were becoming a major issue. And that was without even thinking about the smelly mess Smaug left behind that Bilbo had to discreetly remove in the dead of night, at least he had now trained the dragon to use a bucket, he didn’t think his hall floor would ever recover.

 

Not to say he didn’t enjoy having a dangerous pet in the house, it felt nice to have someone share Bag-End with him again and he enjoyed talking to Smaug, even if the conversations were a little one sided. He didn’t realise how empty his home had become after his parent’s death until Smaug had arrived. Having a pet to care for gave him a purpose, he was responsible for someone other than himself and that made him feel useful. He didn’t have to spend his days just wondering through his smial and visiting his parent’s graves like he used to, he needed more in his life than that. He needed a sense of adventure and thrill of the unknown which his Tookish heritage begged for. And Smaug had offered that so completely. He’d miss having him around Bag-End, waking up to him lying next to his bed (he’d kicked him off the bed when his scales had started to wear away his mother’s quilts). But he was simply too big, he needed more space to grow and stretch his wings properly.  

 

He mulled this over as he stirred his soup, adding a few herbs as he did, cooking always helped him think. A chair tumbled over behind him- speak of the devil he thought dully. Without turning round he spoke, "Smaug if you insist on destroying my home, at least do it quietly, I’m trying to think..." he trailed off. He stared into the murky depths of his soup as he tried to re-find his train of thought.

 

A scaly head butted his leg, looks like Smaug was going to get his attention, whether he wanted to give it or not. He looked down at the creature which barely fit round his kitchen table, if he wanted to keep Smaug a secret he was going to have to move him elsewhere, somewhere off the beaten track but close enough for Bilbo to continue to care for him. Smaug grumbled low in his throat and butted the hobbit’s leg again. He sighed and scratched Smaug on the scales behind his horns; he’d learnt early on that it was the best way to placate the creature when he was in a mood. The slightest thing seemed to set him off, a loud noise, Bilbo being gone from the home for extended periods of time, noisy Hobbits walking past Bag-End... A knock sounded at Bilbo’s front door causing Smaug to rear his head and hiss... or visitors.

 

"I’ll be just a minute!" he shouted towards his door, hoping his visitor could hear him, he didn’t want an oblivious Hobbit walking into his smial and discovering him cooking with a disgruntled dragon. He’d had enough close shaves as it was, some of his relatives would wonder into his house without so much as a how do you do which resulted in him yelling loudly to cover up Smaug’s grumbling as he ushered his relatives outside, proclaiming that it was a lovely day for a walk with his favourite Aunts and Uncles.

 

Gingerly, he stepped round Smaug who was baring his canines in a threatening manner, staring at the doorway of the kitchen as though it had personally offended him. He moved into his line of sight and forced Smaug to look at him.

 

"Stay here," he commanded, it was one of the few commands he had managed to teach Smaug in the last month, "I’ll get rid of them and be right back, behave yourself," he said sternly, putting on his best frown.

 

He took the soup off the stove which he turned off and stepped over Smaug’s tail as he went through the kitchen and shut the door behind him. He wouldn’t put it past Smaug to try and greet the visitor himself.

 

Reaching the round, green door, he pulled it open and was met with the sight of a beaming Drogo Baggins on his doorstep. Drogo was Bilbo’s second cousin, one of few members of Bilbo’s family he kept in touch with after his parent’s demise. Many of his Baggins relatives had disagreed with Bungo marrying Belladonna; they had thought she was too wild and had not a single respectable bone in her body. But Bilbo had seen the way his father had looked at his mother, he had adored her until the very end, respectability be damned.

 

"Afternoon Bilbo! I do hope I wasn’t interrupting anything, I have some excellent news to tell you... Hey are you alright, you seem a little flustered?" Drogo exclaimed, frowning at Bilbo.

 

Bilbo realised then he must look a little bit of a mess, flour was in his hair and soup stains were dotted on his shirt. In his anxieties, Bilbo had forgotten to put on an apron.

"Hm? Oh, sorry where are my manners, afternoon Drogo. Sorry, I was just finishing some cooking, my thoughts are a bit of a jumble. I’d invite you in but my smial’s a bit of a mess at the minute. Hey, tell you what, why don’t we continue this conversation at the Green Dragon and you can tell me your big news. Look I’ll just get my coat, you wait here, dinners on me," he rambled, not letting Drogo get a word in as he stepped back into his hall to get his dark green overcoat.

 

But as he reached for his coat a crash resonated through the hall. He winced at the sound, that’d be the soup. _Bloody dragons!_ Can’t he go one minute without Bilbo doting on him?

 

Drogo popped his head through the doorway, "What was that?" he asked, concern written across his face.

 

His mind racing to find an excuse, "I- erm- well that... err, that will be the cat," Bilbo replied lamely, he knew Drogo was allergic to cats so at least that would stop him investigating further.

 

Drogo’s face cleared as he processed Bilbo’s lie. "A cat? I didn’t know you had a cat Bilbo?" he said smiling.

 

"Err, yes, his name’s Smaug... just a stray I adopted about a month back, doesn’t get out much bless his soul, bit of a menace really... but don’t let him stop us, you said you have some important news for me?" he was shocked how easily the lies came to him, though he was sure if this was his father he was telling them to, he’d have been caught in a heartbeat. His father could always tell when he was lying.

 

"Shouldn’t you go and see what he’s done?" confused at Bilbo’s insistent behaviour.

 

"Don’t worry about it, sounds like he’s just knocked a couple of chairs over again, he’s forever jumping about on the table, anyway enough about my cat, let’s get off to the Green Dragon," he insisted, walking Drogo out the door and making sure it was locked securely behind him.

 

Drogo still seemed suspicious about his cousin’s behaviour but he let it drop in favour of taking amiably as they headed towards the Green Dragon, he was used to Bilbo’s odd behaviour by now.  

 

At the inn, Drogo revealed that Primula, who he had been pining over for months, had accepted his offer of courtship. Bilbo had congratulated him profusely and insisted on buying him a drink. They drank and ate into the night, Bilbo was reluctant to return home and assess the damage Smaug had caused in his absence. However, they were forced to leave the night early as Drogo said he’d promised to meet Primula by the party tree.

 

Bilbo hugged Drogo goodbye, congratulating him again and strolled slowly back towards Bag- End, if Bag-End even still existed that is. Smaug could have burnt the whole place down by now he thought grimly.

 

Reaching Bag-End, he opened the door and peered warily inside, all was suspiciously quiet. He walked carefully towards his kitchen and pushed open the door to reveal the horror which had been caused in his absence.

 

The large pan of soup lay overturned on the floor, the soup spilled all over the wooden floor. His furniture was haphazard across the room, chairs tumbled against one another and tables overturned. All his spices, which had been on the table, lay spilled all over the floor, mixing with the spilled soup in what could only be assumed now to be a hellish concoction.

And in the middle of it all, sat a dragon who had the decency to look sheepish at least.

 

"What in all the Valar, have you done?!" Bilbo yelled at the dragon, facing him down. Smaug dipped his head at Bilbo’s raised tone. "Do you have any idea how long it takes me to put food together for us? Mm? What I risk to make sure you’re fed and yet you deny me a few days worth of food because I have to take a moment away!" He ranted on, making sure the dragon was thoroughly chastised.

 

Calming down somewhat he made his decision, "I’m sorry you don’t have enough space here, I’ve tried to protect you by keeping you under my roof. The other Hobbits and big-folk would kill you if they saw you- your kin have given your kind a bad reputation. Tomorrow... I’ll move you into the Old Forest, I know some caves there, not visited by others. You’ll be safe and I’ll visit you but you need to hunt for yourself, I can’t feed you anymore," he finished- his anger turning to sadness as he realised his smial would become empty again.

 

Smaug now stared up at him, eyes bright with understanding. He shuffled forward, around the furniture and rubbed his face against Bilbo’s stomach in a silent apology. Bilbo sighed and scratched at Smaug’s head, he never could stay angry at him for long.

 

"Let’s get you and this mess cleaned up," he sighed, feeling exhausted already. Feelings of anger always left him drained. "And then we’ll go to bed for an early start."

 

Once he had Smaug’s scales cleaned of soup, his floor cleaned and furniture rightened, he felt ready to drop. He stumbled into his bedroom and fell into bed fully clothed, remaining conscious enough to pull the quilt over himself. He was aware of Smaug curling up next to his bed. "Night Smaug," he mumbled, with his face buried into his pillow it came out more like _ighsmoog._ The dragon grumbled lowly in response and he let sleep claim him.

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

He woke up early, just as light was first breaking over the horizon. He needed to get through Hobbiton, with a dragon and a whole load of items before the rest of the Shire woke up. Hobbits didn’t usually awake until much later; if there were two things Hobbits could appreciate it was food and a good night’s sleep.

 

He woke Smaug who had stuck to his bedding like a stubborn mule but Bilbo managed to get him up and moving through the smial eventually. Bilbo quickly gathered up Smaug’s bedding, rushed into the pantry to pull out some bacon which he shoved into his pack and pulled on his overcoat, ready to go outside.

 

Smaug stood with him by his door as he slowly opened it to peer outside. He scanned the area, looking for any sign of life. Nothing, the lights on all the smials were off and not a soul moved except for the birds which were slowly waking to announce the breaking of dawn.

 

He opened the door wider, stepping through it and holding it open for Smaug who slowly made his way outside, his head remaining low and defensive. It was his first time away from the safe confines of Bag-End and Bilbo let him take in his environment for a moment. Then Smaug opened his wings, finally being able to stretch them to full size and took off into the air. He circled above Bag-End, coming to hover above Bilbo who could feel the soft rushes of air on his face, parting his curls with each flap.

 

Bilbo smiled up at him, he was glad he stayed close and happy that Smaug seemed to be enjoying himself. Taking a deep breath, he slowly made his way through Hobbiton, making sure to check his surroundings- it would only take another early riser to blow his cover. His dragon flapped along above Bilbo, occasionally flying ahead but circling back to make sure Bilbo was still there. He let out occasional shrieks of pleasure at his freedom and Bilbo had to keep shushing him, fearing that a curious Hobbit or fauntling may discover them.

 

As they entered the old forest, the sun had fully risen above the horizon and golden light was filtering through the canopy above, making the dew on the ground sparkle. Smaug was forced to fly lower in parts as Bilbo led him off the path and he occasionally had to land to get through particularly dense areas. Bilbo helped him where he could, pulling away branches and pushing bushes aside as he went.

 

He was leading the dragon through old trails he’d followed as an adventurous fauntling. They were too narrow and densely vegetated for big-folk to come through and Hobbits did not know the forest like he did. He knew Smaug would be safe here.

 

Eventually, they came to a cliff face where the forest was split onto two different levels. Bilbo searched along the wall, familiarising himself with the area. Somewhere along here... he thought as he traced the stone southwards. Aha! He found it, a cave in the rocks which was almost invisible in the tumbling rock formation. He’d found this place years ago, pretending it was a secret passage to an Elvish city, he spent hours playing here he remembered, feeling melancholy.

 

Looking back to make sure Smaug was landed, he stepped into the darkness of the cave. He didn’t go in far, light was only just streaming through the entrance, he wouldn’t be able to see further in until the sun rose higher. Setting down his pack, he didn’t look at Smaug as he pulled out the bedding and slices of bacon. He pulled the bedding onto a raised rocky ledge where it would be safe from any rain which may trickle into the cave. He placed the bacon next to the bedding and turned round to face his friend who was watching him curiously.

 

Stepping forward, he took Smaug’s head between his hands and crouched down so he was eye-level. "You need to stay here," he started, "You can’t follow me back. There’s enough bacon there to last you a couple of days but after that you’ll need to hunt for yourself. There’s plenty of game in the forest, rabbits and deer which you can catch. I’ll come by to check up on you, I’m not abandoning you but I need you to be safe," he finished, feeling as though he was saying goodbye. But that was silly, he’d come back, and Smaug would be here, he wouldn’t leave him surely?

 

Standing, he said, "I need to return to Bag-End and sort out a few things, I’ll be back to visit you tomorrow." He turned his back on Smaug and started to walk out of the cave, looking back he said with a weak smile, "Don’t do anything reckless," feeling like his father.

 

As he walked further and further away from the cave he heard a shrill cry sound from behind him, Smaug calling him back. But he kept going, if he went back now, he’d never leave and the wild was no place for a Hobbit to live. Tears blurred his vision as the sounds of Smaug’s call faded, he’d be back tomorrow he promised, both to himself and the dragon.

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

3 months passed and Winter was returning to the Shire. The wind, no longer soothing, bit at his sensitive Hobbit ears as he made his way through the forest to see his companion. It was getting more difficult to visit in the cold, but Bilbo always made the effort. He wrapped up warm and looked forward to the fires Smaug lit. He’d started breathing fire a month after Bilbo had left him in the cave, starting off as short bursts which quickly built into dangerously long streams of fire.

 

He reached the cave and entered, stepping around some animal bones Smaug had left dotted about. He wasn’t in the cave, he’s probably out hunting, Bilbo reasoned, sitting down on the edge of Smaug’s bedding to await his return. He shouldn’t be long- he knew when Bilbo was coming.

 

After about an hour, he heard the soft thrum of wing beats and watched as Smaug landed outside and entered the cave. He’d had another growth spurt, now easily double the size of a horse. His teeth had elongated and grown more pronounced in his jaw and his horns had grown into a crown of red spines. Seeing Bilbo, he let out a growl in greeting before setting alight to a few logs Bilbo had set up for a fire. The hobbit gravitated towards the warmth immediately, thawing out the cold which had set into his clothes as his dragon curled around the back of him, placing his heavy head on Bilbo’s lap.

 

Bilbo let out an ‘Oomph’ as Smaug got himself comfortable, "You’re getting too big to be curling up on my lap my friend," he chuckled, scratching Smaug just where he liked it. The dragon hummed appreciatively, closing his eyes and Bilbo leant back on his wing.

 

Bilbo realised then that Smaug had come back empty handed, his hunt had been unsuccessful. He looked then at the bones scattered around the cave, completely picked clean and broken open for the marrow. They looked several days old. Had Smaug really been struggling that much for food? Bilbo visiting almost daily kept Smaug from flying too far afield and Bilbo worried that it was his fault that his friend was going hungry.

 

Stilling in his petting, "The game is running out here isn’t it?" he asked Smaug who opened one eye to stare up at him. Smaug whined low in his throat and Bilbo took that as agreement. Sighing, Bilbo stared back, there was no way he’d be able to supplement his food. As winter was coming around, all Hobbits were stocking their pantries, remembering last year had been particularly brutal.

 

"I-If you need to leave for a while, you can... you don’t need to come back for my sake," he reassured the dragon who was now staring at him with both eyes wide open. "Just, make sure you come back, I couldn’t bare it if..." he trailed off and Smaug licked his hand, darting his tongue out like a snake, making Bilbo smile.

 

They sat like that for a few hours, enjoying each other’s company and sharing the warmth. But as the sun dipped in the sky, Bilbo realised he needed to go. The days were growing shorter and he didn’t want to be caught out by hungry wolves. As he made to leave, Smaug stood with him and followed him out of the cave.

 

They turned to face each other and Bilbo scratched under Smaug’s chin, causing the dragon to lean into his touch. But then Smaug moved his head out of Bilbo’s hand and dipped his head to touch the tip of his snout to Bilbo’s brow. He hoped this wasn’t Smaug saying goodbye.

 

Smaug pulled his head back and looked into Bilbo’s eyes, " _Bilbo Drakunfren’"_ he grumbled, his voice deep. Bilbo’s eyes widened in shock, he knew dragons could talk but this was the first time Smaug had spoke. As Bilbo gaped at his friend, Smaug did not wait for a reply and stepped away, stretched his wings and took off, disappearing above the trees.

 

Snapping out of his surprise, Bilbo ran towards the nearest tree and quickly scaled it and peered out above the canopy. He watched as his friend disappeared into the clouds, the sky turning pink and gold. A tear rolled down Bilbo’s cheek, he didn’t think Smaug would be coming back this winter, he’d keep checking, but it looked as though Smaug did not mean to return until the spring at least.

 

Feeling slightly shaken, Bilbo slipped down his tree and headed back home, his heart heavy and mind numb.

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

Bilbo did keep looking out for his friend, but he did not return that winter. And nor did he return in the spring. As summer rolled by again, Bilbo feared that Smaug had not survived the winter, he may have been shot down by men he thought or maybe he had starved, unable to find enough game to keep him sustained. How he wished he could have understood Smaug's last and only words to him, maybe they would give an indication to his whereabouts. 

 

Loneliness set into Bilbo’s mind again and he spent more time by his parent’s graves, talking to them, asking why he was alone. Why winter insisted on taking everyone he held dear away from him, his tears falling to the ground as he crouched before the headstone, as he had done almost a year ago.

 

When he returned home that night, he stood in front of his mirror and looked at himself. His hair was as tangled as a bird’s nest, dark circles lay under his eyes and his face was blotchy from crying. He felt ashamed at having grown so attached to a creature that wasn’t even his own kind and he felt ashamed of all the tears he shed on his behalf. 

 

Wiping his eyes, Bilbo steeled himself, straightened his clothes and smoothed down his hair. There he thought, as he looked back at himself in the mirror, a proper respectable Baggins he was now. And he walked back through his smial, his back straight and emotions stilled as he let go of the silly notion of adventures. After all, adventures had done nothing for him except leave him hurt and late for tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are just getting longer and longer haha Ah well, I was originally going to make this one two chapters but it would have left one long-ish and another short chapter so I decided to keep them together. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Next Chapter: Friday!- We'll look at what Thorin is up to and the fall of Erebor. Graphic depictions of violence coming up (It won't be game of thrones level horror, it'll stay consistent with the levels shown in the movies)
> 
> Thank you for reading, as usual, any feedback- positive or constructive is much appreciated ^_^ Have a majestic day!


	4. Oakenshield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin faces immense loss and makes a promise
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: graphic depictions of violence, sadness and minor character deaths

_20 years later_

 

800 miles away from rolling hills of the Shire, sat the glorious kingdom of Erebor. The dwarvish city had entered a time of prosperity as more and more gold had been dug from the mountain and gems had been hewn from precious rocks to enter Thror’s treasure hoard. And the most precious gem of all had been found, the Arkenstone, the King’s jewel, to signify to all that it was Thror’s right to rule, a blessing from Mahal they sang.

 

A stone which would stay in the line of Durin, passed from father to son until the line of Durin ended. For only a dwarf of such royal decent would sit on the throne of Erebor, of that Thror had assured Thorin. But Thorin worried about his grandfather, the King, his mind had become consumed by greed and gold. It entered the treasure room, but did not leave; expenditure was the lowest it had been for centuries. As a result, parts of the city were being neglected- collapsed tunnels were not properly repaired, new housing halls were not being built, leaving many dwarves in crowded conditions, and trading with the men of Dale had fallen. The rich prospered whilst the poor suffered.

 

Thror had turned a deaf ear to Thorin’s council and to the council of his advisors. As for Thrain, he was afraid of aggravating the King, he had passed all responsibility of the matter to Thorin who the King had become closer to in the 156 years Thorin had been alive.

 

The problems of the city weighed heavy on Thorin’s mind as he walked the ramparts. A deep scowl blackened his expression as he passed his guards who raised their axes in salute as he passed, hailing him 'Prince Thorin’. He didn’t notice, he was too lost in thought to return the salute with a customary nod of his head. Nonetheless, he was well respected by the Dwarves of Erebor, he had fought alongside them as they defended the city from many foes. Orcs and Goblins who had decided to try their luck against the mightiest Dwarven army that had existed since the time of the second age. No, Thorin thought to himself, Erebor would not be falling to that scum whilst he still had breath in his body.

 

He paused and leant against the battlements, looking over at the horizon, towards the sprawling city of Dale. The rich marble and limestone used to build the city made it almost shine golden in the morning light.

 

The wind whipped at Thorin’s braids, causing them to be pushed behind his shoulders. The cold did not bother Thorin, dwarvish blood ran hotter than other races did, they could withstand extremes of both hot and cold which allowed them to travel high into the mountains and work in the intense heat of their forges.

 

_Thrum_

 

The particularly strong gust of wind caused Thorin’s coat to whip behind him, his hair dancing around his face.

 

_Thrum_

 

The pines surrounding the mountain cracked as they bent in the gushes of air, many falling under the sheer power of the wind. Thorin snapped out of his brooding thoughts and gazed out towards the forest, what in Mahal’s name was going on?

 

_Thrum_

Thorin staggered backwards at the next gust of wind, nearly knocking him off his feet. He saw the guards out of the corner of his eye stumbling, their heavy armour was all that kept them upright.

 

A roar sounded from the East, a blood chilling cry which caused all the dwarves on the wall to raise their eyes to the Eastern sky. Thorin’s blood drained from his face as he recognised the creature from its silhouette. Mahal save them, he prayed.

 

Balin rushed to his side, coming up the stairs to the ramparts, "What is it?" he asked concerned, seeing the horror written on the Prince’s face.

 

"Dragon," Thorin answered, his voice barely more audible than a whisper, as though saying it loudly would draw the beast closer to them. His feet carried him to the opposite side of the wall overlooking the entrance hall, his mind struggling to make sense of what was happening. The dwarves housing problem paled in comparison to what they now faced.

 

" _DRAGON!"_ he shouted out to the dwarves bustling through the city, they’d need to close the gates- they couldn’t let the beast in. Once the dragon got inside, there would be no stopping him, he’d kill every dwarf- including the dwarrowdams and dwarflings.

 

Heads snapped up and another roar was sounded behind him, confirming his words.

 

Whirling around, he had just enough time to grab Balin and pull him behind a pillar as fire rained down from the sky. He shielded his eyes, feeling the heat lick and burn at his skin but he was unharmed, for now.

 

Peering round the pillar, Thorin saw the beast turn and fly towards Dale, the city would not stand for long Thorin thought grimly. And then it would turn back towards them, they didn’t have long if the Erebor was to be saved.

 

"Balin, send the fastest Raven to the Elves of Mirkwood," they were their closest allies, their only hope, "tell them to come as fast as they are able. _Hurry,_ we have little time," he cried, pushing Balin from him as he ran towards the steps. If the elves had seen the dragon, they may already be on their way but he could not risk it, they needed every ally they could get. By the time the Iron Hill dwarves arrived, it would be too late. Balin ran from him, rushing to obey his Prince.

 

"Dwarves of Erebor! Take up arms, defend your city! We do not die today!" he shouted out towards the chaos below him, dwarves ran left and right, carrying their children away from the hall and guards rushed forwards towards Thorin as he descended the steps.

 

"Close the gate! Close the gate!" he cried, the last few straggling dwarves were rushing back through the gate to the safety of the city. Through the gate, Thorin could see Dale. It was bathed in fire, the sky turning black with smoke as the city fell, they could expect no help from the men. He did not dwell on the lost lives there, he needed to keep his head clear and defend his people.

 

The sound of cranking signified the mechanisms pulling the doors closed. The doors shuddered and were slowly pulled together.

 

A sword hilt was thrust into his hand. Turning, Thorin saw his younger brother’s ashen face staring back at him. Clasping Frerin on the shoulder, he touched their foreheads together for a moment, their eyes closed as their army assembled into lines around them. He pulled back to stare into his brother’s eyes, "No matter what happens, remember we are of Durin’s blood, we do not so easily fall," he said, in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "If the gate should fall, I need you to go and get mother and father, don’t stop for anyone else, they’ll be in the lower halls, they had a meeting there. I’ll get the King," he promised.

Frerin’s lips quirked into a grim smile, "Don’t die brother."

 

Shakily, he returned it, aware that he was quickly running out of time, "Never," he swore, "...someone needs to look after you."

 

He thanked Mahal that his sister and her family were safe. Her son Fili had just come of age, him and his brother Kili were due to be presented at court. If the dragon had come just 2 months later... Thorin thought darkly, but he shook those thoughts out of his head, he needed to stay focussed on now, not what could have been.

 

The doors thudded shut and the lock sounded with a click. It wouldn’t be enough, half of Thorin’s mind told him, but it may buy them some time.

 

Turning to the dwarven ranks he addressed his people, "Dwarves of Erebor! My Brothers! A dragon has come to take our home, we will not let his filth tarnish _our_ halls! We will not let that worm destroy our families and everything we hold dear! We are Durin’s people, we are born of stone, hewn from rock, _we_ are stronger than anything that witless worm can throw at us! Will you stand with me, as equals, brothers in arms?" A resounding cry sounded around him, the dwarves slamming their axes and swords against their shields in answer.

 

A heavy thud sounded behind him, the dwarves falling silent in response. And so it begins, Thorin thought to himself as he turned his back to his people to stare up at the gate, the next few hours would determine their future.

 

Flames snakes through the cracks in the gate as it shuddered under every blow the dragon threw against it. Thorin raised his sword and adopted a fighting stance, he saw Frerin copy him out the corner of his eye although he had opted for an Axe over a sword. The dwarves behind him raised their pikes, readying themselves for the hell fire that was about the rain down on them.

 

With a resounding crash, the gate flew apart, spraying the dwarves with rock and dust. A large boulder knocked Thorin and Frerin off their feet, winding them both as it rolled on towards the rest of their kin. A victorious cry sounded through the dust and smoke which strangled their throats and constricted their chests. Thorin threw himself over his brother, shielding him from further debris that flew through the air as the beast invaded his home with thudding steps.

 

Raising his head, he saw a beast plated in deep red scales, only just large enough to fit through the door. Bright orange eyes gazed down at the army as though they were no more a bother than an army of ants. It walked through the army, throwing dwarves aside with a sweep of its claws and a flash of its teeth. Their pikes glanced harmlessly off the dragon's hide, not strong enough to pierce it.

As it passed Thorin and Frerin, thankfully missing them both, Thorin got to his feet and helped his brother up. Dust clung to his golden hair, turning it grey to match his face.

 

Hot blood trickled down Thorin’s face and he wiped it away from his eyes to stop it obscuring his vision. His eyes watered from the smoke and the rising smell of burnt flesh. The screams of his people sounded around him, dwarves trapped under debris or too severely burned to move- he’d never forget those screams. He felt sick. He couldn’t save them.

 

Turning to Frerin, he met his wide eyes, "Do as I said," he chocked the words out, hating how bitter they felt in his mouth, "... Erebor has fallen," they couldn’t fight the beast, their army was decimated, they needed to save the rest of his people whilst they still had time to get away from the mountain.

 

Frerin hesitated, his youthful mind reluctant to give up, " _Go,"_ Thorin implored, pushing his brother towards the tunnel that led to the lower halls as he turned to run after the beast, knowing Thror would be where the dragon was- the treasure hall.

 

He ran, jumping and striding over rocks and bodies. People ran screaming and crying past him, eager to escape the horror which lay behind them. Dwarflings clung to their mothers, the few dwarrowdams which existed in Erebor, who carried their children towards the gate.

 

As he passed he saw guards who were torn between fleeing and protecting their home, "Get the others out, protect our people! Do not try and fight the beast. That’s an order!" he yelled at them. Their weapons would be nothing but bee stings against the dragon. 

 

The passages to the treasure chamber were blown apart from the dragon’s assault, causing many side passages to collapse; trapping a multitude of dwarves in their halls. But, he could not stop- he needed to get the King.

 

He ran through the throne room, the walkways had amazingly remained intact. Reaching the throne, Thorin had just enough time to notice the Arkenstone was gone, Thror must have released it from its place above the throne which was now wrought with many deep scratches from the dragon’s claws.

 

He kept going, sprinting past the throne to enter the treasure chamber. Gold writhed around the room, coins flying everywhere as the serpent buried himself in his prize. Looking around, he saw Thror about to plunge himself into the gold after the Arkenstone.

 

Thorin threw himself at his grandfather, grabbing the back of his coat to stop his falling to his death. Their people needed their king, now more than ever.

 

"NO!" Thror protested as Thorin dragged him backwards, raising his sword in defence should the dragon notice their presence. But it seemed far too engrossed in the hoard to notice Thror’s cry or Thorin’s movements.

 

With heaving breaths, he managed to pull the King out of the treasure room and back through the throne room. Thror sagged in defeat in his arms and Thorin had to half support him the rest of the way as they joined the crowds fleeing the mountain.

 

As he stumbled out of the gate, he caught sight of Frerin making his way towards him.

 

"Mother and father?" he asked, worried.

 

Frerin shook his head, his heart sank. _Oh no_. "I managed to grab father and get him out b-but mother... mother... there was a cascade of rocks and she... she fell," he finished, bowing his head. Thorin felt the world almost come to a stop around him, he must remain strong he told himself, there were thousands of survivors- he needed to focus on that.

 

Hearing the sounds of marching, he looked up at Ravenhill, the Elves had come! Hope budded in Thorin’s chest, _they were saved!_ He’d be able to save those trapped and reclaim Erebor. He passed Thror to Frerin who accepted his weight and stepped towards the Elves who had come to a standstill.

 

"Help us!" he cried to them, waving his arms above his head. They didn’t move... why weren’t they moving... why weren’t they charging towards the mountain to help them? "HELP US!" he yelled, trying again as he felt the last buds of hope die in his chest.

 

Their leader, Thorin recognised Thranduil atop his mighty Elk, turned his head to the side and with horror, Thorin saw him turn his steed away from the scene. The whole army turned and they disappeared from sight as they marched away from the crest of the hill.

 

Anger and rage filled Thorin’s heart. Anger at the loss of his people, the loss of his home, his mother and the betrayal from his Allies. The Elves had turned their backs on him. Thorin implored Mahal to curse them for their betrayal, the blood of his people were on Thranduil’s hands as much as the dragon’s.  

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

Wearily, they wondered the wilderness, struggling for food and water as Thorin led them to the inhabitants of men. Thorin and the other few able-bodied dwarves worked to feed their remaining people, he could not let them starve.

 

As Thorin hammered a sword into shape on an anvil, he heard a throat clear behind him. Turning, he saw Dwalin standing in the doorway to the forge. One of his few friends to survive the fall of Erebor.

 

Stepping forward Dwalin spoke, "Balin has received some intel on the dragon who attacked us, he’s doing more research now, but word is he calls himself Smaug."

 

 _Smaug._ Thorin emblazoned the name into his memory, that monster would rue the day he attacked Durin’s folk. Even if it took him a century, he would see Smaug pay for what he’s done.

 

"Thank you Dwalin," he said to his friend, turning back to his work.

 

"Your Highness," Dwalin finished, bowing out of the forge. Highness indeed Thorin thought bitterly, Dwalin knew he hated it when he addressed Thorin with his proper titles. He hated it even more so now, he felt he did not deserve it now. What was he but a wondering blacksmith? He’d failed his people at the gate that day, he had promised them that they would be saved, but now they had lost their home and were slowly wondering to the Blue Mountains where Dis was expecting him. It would be another 2 weeks before scouts from the mountains arrived with food and supplies. They had been sent to guide them to their new home.

 

Anger built up in Thorin’s chest again and he hammered at the sword, venting his anger on the steel. He’d put this right somehow, he had to, for his people.  

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

7 years passed and Thorin was once again, stood on a battlefield. The battle of Azanulbizar was over; they’d driven the Orcs back but at a heavy cost. In the end, they had been fighting for survival and not for the reclamation of Moria. The lost dwarven city was too overrun, they would not be retaking the city this day.

 

Thorin tasted copper in his mouth and spat out a mouthful of blood in disgust. He’d failed again, promised his people hope of a new life and had only led them to their death. Again. Sorrow filled him as he looked out at the bodies of his kin, they’d all dreamed at the chance of a better life outside the Blue Mountains, a life like they’d known at Erebor. But now that dream too was gone.

 

And now Thror was dead and Thrain had gone missing in the midst of battle. They had no King- and then it dawned on Thorin that it would now fall to him to lead his people unless Thrain could be found. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to become King, even though Thorin had practically been leading the dwarves over the past 7 years with Thror consumed by madness and grief over his lost Arkenstone, he’d always had the support and advice of his father. At least he still had Frerin, he thought grimly, and decided to look for his brother as he descended the hill, walking past the twisted bodies of dwarf and Orc alike, absentmindedly carrying his oaken branch. He’d last seen him when he had rallied the dwarves for a final charge against the Orcs, ending the battle. Perhaps he was searching for their father.

 

As he stumbled down the slope, he caught sight of Balin stood on the battlefield; he was watching him with a curious expression- a mixture of deep sadness and awe. Thorin reached him and clasped Balin’s shoulder who returned the gesture, slowly nodding his head in respect.

 

"We need to look for survivors and move them off the battlefield to the healing tents, I need to look for Frerin, will you arrange the search parties for me whilst I look for him?" he asked Balin, exhaustion creeping into his tone.

 

"Of course, my Prince," Balin replied nodding, giving Thorin a weak, watery smile. They’d both lost so much this day.

 

Nodding his head in thanks, Thorin walked through the field, passing many dwarves already searching for survivors and loved ones. As he passed they nodded at him, hailing him with ‘Oakenshield’. He liked this title more than ‘Prince’ or ‘Highness’, he at least felt he had earned this name although he did not feel he had earned their respect as he has done.

 

His eyes scanned the area, searching for his brother’s mane of blonde hair, likely dirtied now with the blood and grime which came with battle. As he looked over at a rock pile, he saw Dwalin appear from around it, carrying a limp form in his arms. He recognised the gauntlets immediately; even at this distance he could see the vibrant blue enamel of Durin’s crest.

 

Not thinking, he dropped his make-shift shield and ran towards Dwalin, nearly tripping on a dead Orc and impaling himself on a sword as he did so. Dwalin had tears running down his cheeks, mixing with the blood from his head wound, his breathing came laboured with the exhaustion of battle and weight of Frerin. As Thorin reached him, Dwalin let out a chocked, "I’m s-so _sorry,"_ breaking in a fresh wave of tears.

 

No, he can’t be dead, he can’t be. He’d been so alive not moments ago, rushing into battle by Thorin’s side, brothers fighting together. Gently, Thorin took Frerin’s form from Dwalin, fearing his friend may collapse. Blood caked Frerin’s face and had run into his beard braids, staining them. Looking down he saw his armour had been pierced in his abdomen, and again in his chest.

 

"Frerin?" he whispered at the body in his arms, shaking him lightly, he got no response. "Frerin, it’s your brother Thorin, it’s over now. _Please_ , just open your eyes, _please_ ," he begged, not believing his brother could be dead, it just wasn’t possible.

 

Dwalin interjected, "Thorin... he’s not breathing... I’m so sorry Thorin, he’s gone. I saw him fighting a large group of Orcs and tried to reach him but another wave stopped me. By the time I looked over again, he’d fallen and the battle was over. I’m sorry Thorin... he’s dead."

 

" _He’s not dead!"_ Thorin insisted, holding Frerin closer to him. But the intensity of his exhaustion and wrought emotions got the best of him, he collapsed on his knees in the mud, holding Frerin in his lap. Tears fell from his eyes as he bowed his head over Frerin’s, touching their foreheads together, trying to find comfort in the gesture as they had done so many times before. But he found none, all he could think about was how cold his brother had become, how slack his once humour filled face was.

 

Tracing his arm, he came to Frerin’s wrist where a cord of blue leather was wrapped. He had worn it to remind himself of Erebor, he’d been wearing it the day the city fell. With shaking hands he untied the leather and retied it around his own wrist, as a memory of both their lost home and his lost family.

 

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, holding Frerin to his chest. He’d lost 3 members of his family in one day and his home and mother in the last decade. He was dimly aware of someone prying his fingers away from Frerin’s stiffening form, he resisted at first but then relented. He was _so tired._

 

A hand closed around his arm and Thorin looked up to see Balin lead him off the battlefield towards their healing tents. They did not speak as Balin led him to a tent, sitting him down on a cot. He allowed a healer to use a wet rag to clean at the cuts on his face to prevent infection, not properly paying attention to what was going on around him.

 

Once he was clean, he slipped into a clean tunic and leggings, his armour and other clothing either needed to be cleaned, repaired or thrown away. Balin stepped back into the tent then, carrying Thorin's Oaken branch and sat across from him but Thorin refused to meet his gaze, keeping his head bowed and his eyes fixed on his hands. Steadily, Balin placed Thorin's shield next to him on the cot, deep grooves ran in the wood where Azog had struck it again and again. It reminded Thorin of how his arm had shook under each blow as he fell to the ground.

 

"I’m sorry for what you’ve lost today, laddie. Truly, I am. We’ve cleared the battlefield, saved what survivors we have left. I-I searched for your father, Thrain..." He trailed off, Thorin picked his head up then to meet his gaze, his blue eyes tired but showing a glint of hope.

 

"I’m sorry laddie, we could not find him- amongst the dead or the living. He may be found yet if he fled the battle but it’s not looking hopeful. He may have been taken prisoner but we cannot be certain and we do not have the men to carry out a rescue..." Thorin’s eyes hardened his mind unable to cope with his loss anymore as he pushed his emotions aside.

 

Clearing his throat, he spoke, for what felt like the first time in hours, "Thank you Balin," he croaked out, unsure what else he needed to say.

 

"Look laddie, I know it’s hard but you’ve got to be strong now, for your people. You’re the King now, and your people look to you. They are already hailing you as the saviour of the battle. You must know, we would have been slaughtered without you," Balin said firmly, patting Thorin's arm.

 

 _King?_ King of what he thought bitterly. But he knew what Balin was saying, he needed to be presented to his people, they needed to know their King still stood alongside them. If he didn’t carry on, why should they?

 

They’d burn their dead tonight, including Frerin. He should have better, Thorin thought sadly, he should be buried in the halls of their forebears. In a tomb of stone, so that he may become part of the mountain once again. But they could not take the innumerable dead with them, back to the Blue Mountains and they could not leave them for the Orcs to devour.

 

Standing, he caught sight of his face in the wash basin which sat on a small table in the tent. He looked at his face, the face of Thorin II, King of Durin’s folk. Shame instantly filled him as he thought of the lives lost at Erebor and those lost today, in hope of a new future.

 

Making his decision, Thorin reached onto the table and took his dagger in hand. Raising the blade, he ignored Balin’s cry of protest, as with one slice he cut the braid from his beard, letting it fall to the ground. He would not grow his beard long until Erebor was reclaimed he swore, when he had re-paid all the blood debts left to him by his fallen shield brothers. Looking down at the leather cord still wrapped around his wrist, he clenched his fist, his emotions turning from sorrow into anger and hardened resolve. He reached behind him and picked up the now familiar weight of his Oaken branch, he'd have it properly carved and shaped into a shield he decided, a symbol and reminder that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken.

 

As he looked back at his reflection, Thorin Oakenshield stared back at him. Yes, that was the title he’d adopt, the person he had become not the person he was born as. As he stepped out the tent to greet his subjects, he made a promise to himself, and a promise to Frerin and all his people, dead or alive. Whilst he still had breath in his body, he would not give up fighting; he would not let their losses be in vain.

 

He would return to Erebor.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another super long chapter haha They'll probably get shorter again after this, this one was especially long because there was so much I wanted to get in. Originally, I was going to write the full battle of Azanulbizar but it would have stayed so consistent with the film that I preferred to focus on the aftermath. Sorry for any sadness :'( I couldn't resist putting in Frerin's death, it was one thing I wished they'd put in the film, as well as their relationship as brothers. Which brings me to the leather thing, I always wondered why Thorin wore a cord of leather round his wrist- shown here- https://heirsofdurin.files.wordpress.com/2013/12/t8.jpg  
> So I did a background to that :P
> 
> Anyway, I hope it wasn't too long and that you enjoyed it :) my favourite chapter to write so far! And 12k words guys, where did they all come from xP 
> 
> I'm aiming to get chapters out every 2-3 days depending on my inspiration, time and chapter length. It typically takes me an hour to write 1000 words and then I spend time editing, re-writing and proof reading again. 
> 
> Next Chapter: Sunday! Bilbo's home get's invaded by a bunch of dwarrows and he learns where Smaug's been these past 10 years
> 
> As always, feedback welcome :) Have a majestic day!
> 
> Edit: Now art/pic for this chapter I made: http://meg-thilbo.tumblr.com/image/124821972221


	5. Unexpected Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo learns where Smaug has been for 10 years and meets a certain Dwarf King
> 
> ["....the smell of Hobbit would be all but unknown to him."  
> Oh Gandalf, how very wrong you are... Bilbo thought dimly.]

_3 years later_

 

Well this was preposterous. Really, it was bad enough that he had 12 dwarves and a meddling wizard in his home, but did they have to eat him out of house and home? His pantry was empty, mud was in the carpet, the plumbing was destroyed and now they were throwing his pots through the air whilst singing that infernal song! If they knew he hated their behaviour then why did they insist on acting like a bunch of drunken goblins? Dwarves were entirely unrespectable, Bilbo concluded as his favourite plate flew over his head. Now really, that was an anniversary gift from his father to his mother, it wasn’t even supposed to be used for eating!

 

He’d already forgotten their names; it wasn’t as though they had had a proper introduction after all. When the first dwarf had entered his home, Dwili was it? He’d been more focussed on keeping the dwarf happy and avoiding being murdered, much less learn his name. He was the only dwarf still armed he noted, maybe he was the bodyguard of the group... but that still didn’t explain why they were in his home in the first place. He was rather concerned by the sheer volume of weaponry that had been thrust upon him to deal with- daggers, swords, axes, war hammers and even a slingshot! There was nothing dangerous in the Shire; it was the midst of summer, even the wolves kept to the forest at this time of year.

 

Stepping out into the hall, Bilbo took a deep breath to calm his rapid heartbeat and growing headache. Hobbits were not built for this level of activity and excitement.

 

"Bilbo, my dear fellow! What are you doing back here, your guests have just finished washing up and are eager to start another song!" Gandalf boomed above him.

 

"No! No no no, _no_ more singing! I’ve had quite enough of this dwarvish nonsense, what are they doing in my house and why can’t they leave?!" Bilbo said furiously, staring up at Gandalf’s towering form.

 

Gandalf just chuckled in response- Bilbo looked ready to burst a vein. "All in good time, all in good time my friend. They have a proposition for you that I’m sure you’ll find interesting."

 

"A proposition?! No, I can’t say I’ll find anything they have to propose interesting. But if they insist on putting it forward before they leave, why don’t they get on with it, what are they waiting for?" Bilbo replied, waving his arms about to emphasise his point.

 

As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door. Oh no, Bilbo thought horrified, not another one!

 

Figuring that if he didn’t answer the door, the dwarf would either knock it down or one his comrades would invite him in anyway, he made his way over to his front door, aware that the rest of the company was pouring into the halls around him. They hadn’t done this for any other visitor, what made this one so important?

 

Absentmindedly adjusting his suspenders, he wrenched open the door to reveal a very important looking dwarf indeed. As he turned to face Bilbo, he was struck how different he looked to the other dwarves. Where their beards were long and braided, his was cut short; his dark hair was free except for two simple braids which framed his face, they were radically different from the extravagant designs that the other dwarves seemed to sport. His clothing looked well tailored; a heavy fur rimmed coat covered a patterned, leather surcoat which stretched over a well muscled chest. Bilbo quickly concluded that he was a dwarf of very high standing, he even held himself with great majesty.

 

His sapphire blue eyes quickly skimmed over Bilbo and widened with recognition as his gaze fell on Gandalf.

 

"Ah, Gandalf, I thought you said this place would be easy to find... I lost my way twice," he spoke in deep rich tones as he stepped into Bilbo’s smial.

 

How he got lost in the Shire, Bilbo would never know, it wasn’t a very large place and his smial was not exactly inconspicuous at the top of his hill.

 

"Bilbo, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf said, gesturing between the two of them.

 

Thorin finally turned to regard Bilbo properly, his gaze was stern and very direct which made Bilbo feel even more intimidated than that first dwarf had made him feel. He stiffened defensively under his gaze.

 

Folding his arms over his chest, Thorin stepped forward towards Bilbo, "So... This is the Hobbit," he declared as he completed a circle around said hobbit.

 

 _The_ Hobbit? He wasn’t aware that was held in any great importance.

 

"He looks more like a grocer than a burglar," the dwarf said smirking, behind him a few members of his company chuckled at the remark.

 

Bilbo stared at him dumbfounded. How rude! He was of fairly high standing for a Hobbit of the Shire, a grocer indeed! However, he was most certainly not a burglar.

 

Ignoring Bilbo’s exasperated expression, Thorin turned and followed his dwarves into the dining area. Well, at least we may get to the bottom of whatever’s going on, he thought grimly.

 

As his porch emptied of dwarves, Gandalf turned to face him, "Bilbo, I apologise for Thorin’s words, he’s a very... err, difficult dwarf at the best of times, however I’m sure he’ll warm to you in time. Anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask you dear boy, did your mother ever speak to you of a red stone she had carried from her travels? Only, she’d asked me to do some research for her and if you should still have it, I would like to remove it from your care. It’s been found to be a very dangerous item indeed," he finished darkly.

 

Bilbo felt the hairs on his arm stand on end as the blood drained from his face. He had not cast a thought towards Smaug or the egg in a very long time.

 

Misreading Bilbo’s alarmed expression, Gandalf continued, "Nothing for you to worry about, it’s quite safe providing it is not in the proximity of fire. And seeing as your fireplace is clear, am I right in thinking our Belladonna kept in a chest somewhere, perhaps?"

 

Managing to get over his initial alarm, Bilbo managed to get his mouth to work, "Err yes, my mother did mention a stone... In fact after her death, I did find it in a chest and as I was taking it out, it err broke. Yes, I dropped it and it smashed. Quite curious," even to his own ears, his lie sounded rather weak. But Gandalf didn’t seem to pick up on it, pinning Bilbo’s frayed nerves on the events of the evening and the sensitive topic of his mother.

 

"I see..." Gandalf’s expression furrowed into a deep frown, "And there was nothing inside of this... stone?"

 

Bilbo was sure at this point Gandalf knew what the stone had been, but he couldn’t tell him. It was of little consequence anyway, Smaug had left and was likely dead.

 

"No, just hollow... I threw the shards away... I hope they weren’t important somehow?" He hoped his ignorance pushed whatever suspicions Gandalf held aside.

 

The wizard just continued to frown down at Bilbo, "Curious... I was so certain that... it hadn’t smashed on the mountain..." he shook his head to clear his thoughts and his expression cleared into a reassuring smile, "Not to worry, looks like my concerns were of little matter. At any rate, our new friend has travelled a long way and it would be a great help if you could get the King something to eat whilst we settle down, hm?" he finished, smiling down at Bilbo, he did not wait for an answer as he trailed after the dwarves, leaving Bilbo standing alone.   

 

Now, following his interrogation, he was being commissioned to feed the very dwarf who had insulted him. Grumbling to himself, he made his way over to his kitchen to see what the other dwarves had not already decimated.

 

Despite still being shaken by the reminder of his lost friend, he managed to find a portion of stew and some bread which he heated on the stove and carried it into the dining area. The dwarves looked very solemn as they looked towards their leader sat at the head of the table.

 

He placed the stew in front of Thorin and he received a gruff nod in thanks as the dwarf tore off a chunk of bread and dipped it in his stew. Well at least he wasn’t going to insult his culinary ability.

 

"What of the Iron Hill Dwarves? Is Dain with us?" the first dwarf asked, directing his question at Thorin. Dwalin! That was his name, Bilbo remembered. He cast his mind back to his map and mother’s stories- they were a large settlement of dwarves, sitting next to the mightier kingdom of Erebor. He wondered what these dwarves were up to if they needed the help of dwarves who had settled many hundreds of miles away.

 

Carefully, Thorin lowered his spoon to meet the curious eyes of his company, "They will not come," he replied, "He believes it is too soon after the beast’s first attack to try and reclaim the mountain. The fate of this quest will fall to the 14 of us."

 

Bilbo dearly hoped he hadn’t been included in that number, there was still Gandalf here, they must have meant him since there was only 13 dwarves in his dining room. Unless another had snuck in without him knowing, he thought. However, for the first time that night and for the first time in a long while, he felt his Tookish side stirring in curiosity.

 

"You’re going on a quest... to reclaim a mountain against a-a beast?" he asked as all eyes turned to him. Gandalf seemed to have a pleased gleam in eye as he noted Bilbo’s sudden interest.

 

The dwarf in the bizarre hat piped up then, he couldn’t remember being introduced, in fact he thought this must have been one of the ones who had fallen into his smial, "Oh, that would be a reference to Smaug the terrible," he said, quite cheerfully.

 

Bilbo’s eyes widened in shock and his heart picked up a frighteningly heavy pace. _Smaug?_ Surely it was a coincidence, no his Smaug would never earn such a title.

 

"Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age... teeth like razors, but that’s the least of your concerns, he’d melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye," the dwarf continued, not noticing Bilbo staring at him as though Morgoth himself had entered the room.

 

So the beast breathed fire... that didn’t mean he was a dragon... lots of monsters breathed fire, although he found himself quite unable to think of any at that moment, he was sure there must be some.

 

"Yes... we must kill the dragon before it grows any stronger. He’s not left Erebor since he took it 10 years past, he must be growing weak," Thorin added firmly, gazing out at his company with confidence.

 

He felt dizzy... He needed to sit down and think... No, this can’t be _his_ Smaug. That Smaug was dead and he would never do anything like that. A part of him, reminded him that he didn’t know Smaug was dead and pointed out there weren’t many dragons in middle Earth, let alone there be two called Smaug.

 

Clinging to a final element of doubt that this dragon could not be his old friend, he asked, "What... what did the dragon look like? Out of interest..."

 

Thorin turned to him then, frowning at the strangeness of his question, but he answered anyway, being one of the few who had caught a good look at the dragon without dying, "His scales were deep red and his wingspan alone would push the boundaries of the Shire. The beast’s head was covered in an array of red spines and his eyes were bright orange, the last thing any of us would see before he rained fire down on us... does that answer your question Halfling?"

 

 _Yes_ he wanted to say, _that quite does it,_ as he took a gulp and stepped backwards away from the company. He was overwhelmed; his troubled mind was struggling to make sense of Thorin’s words, his head pounding into a fierce headache.

 

"Hence why I chose Mister Baggins for this mission," Gandalf intercepted, "Hobbits are quick and light on their feet. A large dragon such as Smaug would easily miss him... and whilst Smaug is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, having hailed from the Grey Mountains the smell of Hobbit would be all but unknown to him."  

 

Oh Gandalf, how very wrong you are... Bilbo thought dimly.

 

Losing patience, Thorin nodded his ascent, "Give him the contract," he said gruffly, wanting this over and done with as much as Bilbo had done not moments before.

 

He was vaguely aware of a piece of paper being thrust into his hands. Staring down at it, he managed to make out the words, ‘burglar’, ‘incineration’, ‘funeral arrangements’... his jumbled brain unable to make the words into sentences.

 

Seeing Bilbo’s distress, Gandalf stepped forward to place a large hand on Bilbo’s thin, quaking shoulder, "Bilbo are you quite alright?" his bushy eyebrows once more settling into a concerned frown.

 

"Hm? Yes... yes... quite al-alright," he answered before promptly fainting, the darkness spreading through his mind and his vision turning black as he hit the floor.

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

When he came to, he was greeted with the sight of several dwarves and their bushy beards bearing down on him, the floor hard beneath his back. Why had he fainted again? Then the memories of the company and Smaug and Erebor came flooding back, he nearly fainted again and probably would have done if the dwarf with the ear trumpet hadn’t stepped forward.

 

"C’mon lads, give the little fellow some space and help him up," he practically yelled at all those around him. That woke him up. Little fellow? He hadn’t been called such as belittling name since he was a wee faunt.

 

He felt hands grab him under his arms and he was hefted to his feet. Glancing at his helpers, he was met with the beaming faces of Fili and Kili. Did they ever stop smiling... or do anything without the other? He thought blearily.

 

"Don’t worry mister Boggins! We’ve got you!," Kili cried joyfully.

 

"It’s Baggins," he managed to mutter feebly before they led him into his living area and plopped him down into his father’s armchair.

 

They thankfully left him then and returned to the others in the dining area as a very worried Gandalf charged into the room, brandishing a mug of tea.

 

"My dear fellow whatever has you so worked up?" The wizard cried in concern as he passed the pale hobbit the mug which he clutched a little too tightly between his hands.

 

"I-I don’t know what you expect of me Gandalf... really, I can’t go on an adventure... you’ve got the wrong hobbit," he replied weakly. He couldn’t face Smaug, he just couldn’t.

 

"You’ve changed Bilbo Baggins, and not entirely for the better. I always remembered a young hobbit who would always be looking in the woods for elves. A hobbit who would like nothing more than to see beyond the boundaries of the Shire."

 

Shakily Bilbo got to his feet, he needed to be alone. "I’m sorry Gandalf..." he whispered as he left to sit in his hall. Away from the noise of the dining room, he lost himself to his worried thoughts.

 

Smaug was alive! But he had clearly changed from the dragon Bilbo knew all those years ago. What had made him turn as vicious as to take a Dwarven stronghold and kill hundreds of innocent dwarves? What else had he done that Bilbo did not know about, in all those years he’d been away with Bilbo thinking him dead? And what good could he do? He was just a hobbit from the Shire, all he had done was hatch a dragon, get hurt and become a respectable gentle-hobbit. Guilt seized Bilbo’s chest as he thought of what Smaug had done. It was his fault... he’d put the egg next to the fire and raised him until he could look after himself. If he had just left the dragonling in the forest... if his curiosity over his mother’s memorabilia hadn’t gotten the best of him... those dwarves would still be alive. Thorin and his people would still have a home.

 

A deep voice sounded through the halls of his smial...

 

_"Far over the misty mountains cold..."_

He recognised the tones as belonging to Thorin, his voice was sad but powerful. It hit Bilbo’s very soul, as though the King had laid Bilbo’s soul out and was studying it intently.

 

_"The dragon’s ire more fierce than fire..."_

He needed to understand why Smaug had done this. He needed to talk to him... maybe if he understood why, he’d be able to reason with the creature... he’d be able to convince him to leave. If he did that... there would be no need for bloodshed... no need for Smaug to die and the dwarves could reclaim them home. He could put right the wrong he’d started.

 

As the song drew to a close, Bilbo got to his feet without shaking. A strong determination had set into his being, a need to put things as they should be.

 

Walking into the living room where the dwarves had retired, all eyes turned to him. He met the intense gaze of the King, his own unwavering.

 

"I will help you reclaim Erebor."

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your lovely comments :) reading them puts a massive grin on my face :D
> 
> I will repeat that I will be missing odd scenes out which are consistent with the film and add nothing new or developmental, that being said I will be including scenes from the books and the film but I will try to put a unique spin on them so they're not too boring and add something plot wise whether that be linking things together or something Thilbo or Smaug related :) The bagginshield elements will start to trickle in steadily, I don't want to rush things so don't worry if their relationship seems to be taking a backseat, we'll get there guys 
> 
> In case anyone is wondering because I've thoroughly screwed with the timeline, Thorin is about 166, Bilbo is 50 and Frerin was about 10 years younger than Thorin
> 
> Next chapter: Tuesday! Bilbo learns a bit more about why Thorin is the emotionally constipated goon that he is and Bilbo has some disturbing dreams
> 
> Have a majestic day! x


	6. Dark Words and Troubled Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo hears some more about Thorin's past which only adds to his guilt. He bonds with some members of the company and he has some disturbing dreams.
> 
>  
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: scenes of death and mild violence towards the end of the chapter

Bilbo was fed up. His backside was killing him from a rough day of riding and he thought that he’d be walking bowed legged for a month. He was cold, he’d completely forgotten to pack his thick winter coats which he’d need to get him through these chilled nights. Bilbo thought on this as he gazed round at the other dwarves, staring jealously at Thorin’s fur rimmed coat that was certainly soft but, most importantly, very warm.

 

Thorin hadn’t stopped scowling at him since Bilbo had mounted his pony. Well... attempted to mount his pony... he’d never ridden a pony before and he’d overestimated the force needed to pull himself up. As a result, Bilbo had missed the saddle entirely and had ended up with his foot trapped in the stirrup, dangling over the opposite side of a very disgruntled pony. Thorin had been adjusting the saddle of his pony in front of him and had turned when he’d heard Bilbo’s frustrated attempts to righten himself. A few other members of the company had noticed Bilbo’s predicament but were laughing rather than helping. The King had huffed a great sigh before reaching Bilbo’s pony which he soothed with a few strokes along her neck before reaching round to grasp Bilbo’s arm and pull him roughly into his saddle. Bilbo had just stared down at him, opened mouthed and face flushed with embarrassment as he stammered out a “thanks”. The dwarf had scowled up at him before he returned to his own pony, muttering out something which sounded suspiciously like, “ _blasted Halflings”._

 

Thinking back, Bilbo blushed at the memory. Not the greatest way to start an adventure, he thought as his mood dropped to an even more sullen level. He huddled closer to the fire as a particularly harsh breeze ruffled his curls and caused him to shiver. Gandalf just continued to blow smoke rings next to him, he seemingly didn’t feel the cold although he probably had many layers under those grey robes.

 

“Here you go laddie,” a voice sounded above him.

 

Looking up, he saw Balin setting himself down next to Bilbo as he passed him a thick woollen blanket. He took it eagerly and wrapped it tightly around his shoulders, stuttering out a thank you to the snowy haired dwarf who smiled back at him warmly.

 

They sat in silence for a while as they watched the company around them. Bombur was preparing some sort of soup or stew as Fili and Kili snickered at the edge of the camp, their heads together, sharing a private joke. The rest of the company was split into small groups, seemingly sitting with members of their own family as they chatted amiably or sharpened their weapons. Dwalin in particular was sharpening his deadly looking Axe, taking great care as he ran the whetstone over the edge of the blade. Bilbo gulped as he watched him, he didn’t think he and Dwalin would be fast friends any time soon.

 

Thorin was the only dwarf who was alone; he stood at the edge of the camp, his back to them as he gazed out at the valley below. Bilbo had only seen him talking to a few of his company, keeping mostly to himself. He’d spare a few scolding words for Fili and Kili, whom Bilbo had learnt were his nephews and heirs, but Bilbo saw the way his eyes would soften as they fell on the pair. Despite their behaviour and his gruff manner, he clearly cared for his family dearly. Other than his nephews, Bilbo had seen him share a few comments with Balin and Dwalin although that was usually regarding directions, scouting or the map and key Gandalf had handed to Thorin after Bilbo had re-entered the room.

 

He frowned as he noted that Thorin did, in fact, spare a few comments for him. However, they were usually remarks regarding how useless or unfit he was to be in the wild. And the looks he’d spare him would be on the harsh side even when Bilbo was just plodding along quite nicely, thank you very much!

 

Balin followed Bilbo’s line of sight and noticed his frown boring into Thorin’s back. He sighed and shuffled slightly closer to speak to the hobbit, “Having trouble with our Thorin, laddie?”

 

Bilbo jumped slightly, he hadn’t noticed that he’d been staring at Thorin all this time. “Well... he’s err... he’s certainly a difficult dwarf,” he answered, taking Gandalf’s description of the King. He kept his voice low, it wouldn’t do for Thorin to overhear and have another reason to hate him.

 

His companion chuckled at Bilbo’s hesitative tone, “Aye, that he is... he wasn’t always like that though...”

 

“Oh?” Bilbo’s curiosity spiked, he couldn’t imagine Thorin without his deep scowl marring his otherwise handsome face. Yes, Thorin was attractive... for a dwarf, Bilbo admitted, but he was also incredibly rude and his gruff manner would not do at all, not that a simple hobbit such as Bilbo would ever have the chance at catching the eye of a King.

 

“No... The past 10 years have not been easy on him I’m afraid. A lot of responsibility has been placed on his shoulders very suddenly after Erebor fell, his grandfather, the King was so consumed by madness that it fell to Thorin to lead us. He had his father, Thrain, but he did not have the respect of the men like Thorin did. And then Thror was killed by Azog the Defiler and Thrain went missing in the battle to reclaim Moria. Thorin avenged them though, cut the Defiler’s arm off, using nothing but an oaken branch as a shield- hence his name Oakenshield...” Balin trailed off, his voice turning dark. Many of the company had turned to hear his words, although they had doubtlessly heard them many times before.

 

Bilbo felt sick again, he had no idea what Thorin had been through following the loss of his home. All because Smaug had pushed them to such desperation.

 

“And what of Azog?” he asked Balin, managing to get his words out.

 

“That filth died of his wounds long ago,” Thorin answered darkly, Bilbo hadn’t noticed he was now facing the group, his piercing gaze fixed firmly on Bilbo who tentatively returned it.

 

Thorin was the first to break it off, stalking off to the opposite side of camp to sit alone as he sharpened his sword.

 

The company returned to their usual chatter, feeling uncomfortable with the silence which had descended upon the camp after Thorin’s interruption.

 

Balin continued, “I’m not excusing his behaviour laddie, only explaining why he is, well... the way he is. He was never the same after Frerin died...”

 

“Frerin?”

 

“Aye, Frerin was his younger brother. Losing his mother and home to the dragon was hard, as was losing his father and grandfather in the battle of Azanulbizar, but losing his brother was the hardest loss. They were very close see- Frerin was one of the few who could get Thorin to laugh after Erebor’s downfall. When he lost him in the battle at Moria, Thorin grew very distant- he needed to be strong since he was faced with the responsibility of ruling his people alone. He was never the same after that... But don’t worry laddie, Thorin’s just wary of strangers, he doesn’t get close to anyone anymore sadly. He’ll treat you like one of the company with time,” he finished, smiling reassuringly at Bilbo whose face was incredibly pale. 

 

“Thank you Balin... I err... need to go and make water,” he said, excusing himself as he got to his feet, legs feeling stiff and sore.

 

“Okay Bilbo,” Balin smiled up at him, “Don’t go far though, we wouldn’t want to lose our burglar now would we?” he chuckled.

 

Bilbo wearily returned the chuckle before gingerly walking into the surrounding forest. He didn’t notice the blue eyes following him as he exited the camp.

 

He walked in deep enough so that they could not hear his laboured breathing. Guilt constricted his chest as he thought on all Balin had said, all Thorin had _lost._ Thorin would kill him if he knew Bilbo’s secret, knew that he was once friends with the very dragon that had devastated Thorin’s life.

 

He supported himself against a tree as he calmed his rapid heartbeat, it wouldn’t do to have a panic attack on the first day of the journey. It comforted Bilbo to be surrounded by nature, the trees and soil beneath his feet calmed him as he was reminded of his garden back at Bag-End. His petunias would be flowering soon, he thought sadly, his angst turning to homesickness.

 

“Halfling?” a voice sounded behind him, of course it would be Thorin to come and look for him. The very dwarf whose past was now destroying Bilbo in the sheer volume of responsibility he felt towards what had happened to him.

 

He turned to face him, releasing the tree he’d been clutching onto to square his shoulders, trying to look more confident than he felt. “Y-yes Master Oakenshield?” he stammered out, his voice betraying his shattered nerves.

 

“If you’re done here, return to camp. You can get easily lost in this darkness and my company can spare no sleep looking for our burglar,” he almost growled out before turning around and retracing his steps, not looking back to see if Bilbo was following him.

 

Bilbo huffed as he started after the dwarf, he still didn’t appreciate being spoken to like he was still a fauntling, regardless of his short stature. If Thorin disliked him so much, why even bother coming after him, why not send one of his other dwarves to go get him. He wondered whether Thorin had wanted to find him for a different reason... but he couldn’t think what that could possibly be. At any rate, the dwarf was certainly an enigma.

 

As he returned to camp, he saw Gandalf smile at him, clearly showing relief that Bilbo had not somehow managed to get himself killed so early on in the quest. Or maybe he was worried that Bilbo had decided to return to Bag-End, he wondered as he returned to his place next to fire, noticing Thorin absentmindedly twirling a cord of blue leather between his fingers, on which the key was now strung.

 

A bowl of soup was thrust into his hands by a beaming Bofur. “There you go lad, tuck in whilst it’s still hot,” dropping himself down next to Bilbo in Balin’s previous position. Balin had made his way over to Thorin to discuss some matter or other, although Thorin still seemed decidedly distracted.

 

Bilbo found that he liked Bofur’s company, despite his rather twisted sense of humour. He told him tales of his life in the Blue Mountains before moving onto his wife back home.

 

“Ach... enough about your wife Bofur, you’ll set Gloin off at this rate,” Nori complained.

Gloin picked his head up at the mention of his name, “Eh?” then his gaze fell on Bilbo, “Ah Bilbo, I don’t think I told you abou’ my wife and son, Gimli, little wee dwarfling he is, wanted to follow me on this quest he did, but I says to him...”

 

“Look what you’ve done,” Nori grumbled at Bofur who just laughed at his friend. Bilbo, on the other hand was rather intrigued and glad that he was being included in the group by at least some of the company.

 

“Say, Bilbo, you haven’t said, do you have a wee hobbit lass waiting for you back in the Shire?” Bofur asked companionably. Bilbo chocked on his soup, it was rather rude in hobbit culture to ask people you barely knew about their relationships, although he supposed dwarves were more open about such things.

 

Bofur thumped his back as he coughed, “Sorry lad, didn’t mean to spring that on ya...”

 

“No, no it’s quite alright Bofur. Erm, no I don’t have a lass waiting for me back at home, or a lad as it were...” he blushed, he wasn’t sure how dwarvish culture accepted such pairings.

 

Noticing Bilbo’s embarrassment, Bofur patted Bilbo’s knee reassuringly, “Don’t worry Bilbo, there are few female dwarves born in our race. Male pairings are quite common.”

 

“They are?”

 

“Aye, see Nori has a male partner back at the Blue Mountains. Oin and Dori are widowers, lost their husbands on the way from Erebor to the Blue Mountains. Bombur, Gloin and I are among the few to have wives and families. Does hobbit culture not permit such pairings?” he asked, frowning.

 

“There are no laws against it... but it’s not seen as a respectable thing to do. We are creatures of Yavanna, and as such, we are expected to grow a family so to say. My family is quite unusual for a hobbit family, most families tend to have as many as 7 or even 10 children whereas I am an only child,” he explained.

 

“7 or 10 children?! You hobbits are blessed indeed Master Baggins, dwarven pregnancies are rare and so dangerous that many couples would not make them a common occurrence even if they could,” he exclaimed.

 

They talked for a while, comparing the strange differences between Hobbit and dwarf culture. But eventually, Thorin ordered his company to turn in and get some sleep for the long trek tomorrow. The dwarf King took the first watch.

 

Bilbo didn’t realise how tired he was until he managed to settle down in his sleeping roll that he’d set near to the fire. He’d fallen asleep as soon as his head hit his make-shift pillow of a rolled up shirt.

 

_He was running, too late, too late he thought as he raced up the hill, bodies lay all around him- Elves, Dwarves, Men, Orcs, Goblins and even giant Eagles were spread out, blood coating their bronze feathers and dripping from their beaks. Making it to the top of the hill, the horrifying scene worsened. A dragon was falling from the sky, his scales deep red shone almost like fire in the sun, his large wings twisting wildly as he attempted to break his fall but he didn’t stop. He was crying he realised, tears ran down his cheeks as he stood helpless, watching as Smaug accelerated towards the ground. He covered his pointed ears as Smaug’s screams echoed across the scene, stabbing at his ears and chest. With a sickening thud and whoosh of air, his friend fell before him, lifeless and still. He noticed a black arrow protruding from his chest before his gaze fell to the bodies lying next to him. Thorin, Fili and Kili lay dead at his feet, their skin pale, glassy eyes open but unseeing. He fell to his knees before them and the scene shifted around him..._

_... He now stood atop a wall with Thorin stood in front of him. He was yelling at him, in one hand he held a bright, glimmering stone, and he was using the other to point accusingly at Bilbo. He couldn’t hear his words, they wouldn’t make sense, nothing more than a garbled mess. Bilbo backed away from him, he was confused and frightened but he also felt immense loss and sadness. Why did he feel as though he’d lost something dear to him? It wasn’t grief, this loss was something else entirely... Suddenly, he was hauled off his feet, held in the air by his throat as Thorin continued to shout at him. Looking into his eyes, he saw madness accompanied by unhinged rage. He couldn’t breathe... he needed air... scrambling at Thorin’s hands for release..._

“Halfling.”

 

_Thorin shook him, dangling him over the parapet, threatening to drop him. He kicked out, trying to free himself..._

“Bilbo!”

 

He woke with a start, his chest heaving and sweat running down his brow as he stared up at Thorin, however this one was very much real and not a dream. Still, he almost shirked away from him, fear threatening to overwhelm him as he reminded himself that it was only a dream, nothing more. And then he realised it had been Thorin shaking him, trying to get him to wake up, Oh Yavanna, he hoped he hadn’t kicked him! But judging by Thorin’s unimpressed scowl and the way his leg was sticking awkwardly out of the blanket towards the dwarf, he had indeed kicked him.

 

Thorin straightened and looked down at the still shaking hobbit, “You were crying and thrashing about in your sleep,” he said in explanation, “Try and get some sleep burglar, we have a long way to go,” turning his back to Bilbo and striding back to his spot where he’d been keeping watch.

 

Now he’d managed to not only annoy but assault the leader of their company all in one day. Great, Bilbo thought bitterly as he rolled over onto his side, just great. But the memory of the nightmares stopped him sleeping for a long time, he was afraid of returning to them. He was so confused, why had he dreamt of Smaug’s, Thorin’s and the prince’s death and then Thorin going mad and attempting to kill him? Maybe it was the weariness of travelling and sleeping in an unfamiliar place or the guilt he felt and fear of what lay at the end of this journey, he just didn’t know. 

 

He didn’t come up with an answer before his mind slipped off into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading so far guys :) I've decided to make chapters around 3k words long because that seems to be a feasible volume considering my time and schedule to get these chapters out. As a result, this fic may be finished sooner than I'd previously estimated but we'll see, just doing a quick count in my head, I guess they'll be at least 20 more chapters, probably more as I expand on certain aspects of the story- it's difficult to estimate how much I'll dedicate to some things. Note- if I write smut, it won't be incredibly explicit and will exist in singular chapters that can be skipped if that's not your thing. Later chapters will be longer because that's when some really BAMF things happen I have planned ;) 
> 
> All shall be revealed in time *slips mysteriously into the shadows* 
> 
> Next chapter: Thursday! Fili and Kili are little shits and we reach Rivendell where Bilbo meets a very important Elf
> 
> Plus, coming Saturday, we'll have the most important chapter thus far so stay tuned for that, the plot will thicken so much I'll probably drown in it haha I've written a weeks worth of chapters in 2 days, need a lie down...
> 
> Anyway, Have a majestic day!


	7. Prejudice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili are little shits, Bilbo gets a sword and the company reach Rivendell

Now, the incident with the trolls was most certainly not his fault. Well... maybe a little but it was Fili and Kili who had pushed him into doing it and Thorin’s insistence that they camp in a dangerous spot which put them at risk in the first place.

 

After dealing with what came with raising a temperamental dragon, Bilbo had assumed stealing from 3 trolls would be no problem. He’d quickly discovered that trolls were a different kettle of fish entirely and that, whilst they may be not as intelligent as dragons, they were certainly brutal and thuggish. His arms and legs were still sore where they’d held him aloft in the air, he’d definitely have some bruises to show for it he thought to himself as he rubbed his tender arms.

 

“Bilbo?”

 

He looked around to meet the very sheepish looking faces of Fili and Kili.

 

“Uncle said we should apologise for our behaviour...” Kili continued.

 

“And we are sorry Bilbo, truly it’s our fault that you were put in danger...” Fili added.

 

“We thought that if you dealt with the trolls, you’d feel better about having to face a dragon but...”

 

“It was a stupid idea...”

 

“Reckless even...”

 

“We won’t put you in such danger again...”

 

“We promise...”

 

“We’re sorry Bilbo,” they finished together before enveloping the gaping Hobbit into a tight hug.

 

Bilbo patted their backs awkwardly despite the fact he could barely move his arms. “T-that’s alright boys... no harm done...” he mumbled with his face pressed against their fur coats.

 

They released him, their faces now beaming. “Thanks Mister Bilbo,” Kili enthused.

 

“Truly, you are a better hobbit than us!” Fili added, grinning.

 

“Great, and now that’s sorted, you can give me my coin purse back,” Bilbo replied, holding out his hand patiently as though waiting for a couple of faunts to give back the sweets they’d stolen.

 

Their faces fell instantly. “How did you know?” Kili asked in awe.

 

“I have many relatives whose fingers do not miss an opportunity to dip into my fortune. As a result, I can feel when I’m being pick-pocketed, Lobelia’s fingers are far nimbler than yours,” he said patiently, still holding out his hand.

 

Fili groaned and handed him back his money. “You win Mister Boggins... we _are_ sorry though...”

 

“Deeply sorry...” Kili finished again.

 

“I know,” Bilbo said simply, he felt he’d at least earned the respect of the duo if nothing else.

 

“C’mon, let’s see what Uncle’s found in the troll cave,” Kili said excitedly and raced his brother up the hill, leaving an amused hobbit in their wake.

 

Bilbo was not so enthusiastic to meet back with the rest of the company. His dreams still bothered him and Thorin had not so much as looked at him after their awkward incident during the night. That was until their gaze had met when Bilbo was held hostage by the trolls. He was thankful that Thorin had not let the trolls kill him, when he’d looked at him, he could see at least some concern for Bilbo’s safety but that had quickly morphed into exasperation as he threw down his sword in defeat. Bilbo was certain that whilst he had earned the respect of his nephews, Thorin was going to be much harder to convince. He at least wanted to get along with Thorin, especially if he was going to be playing such a crucial role in this quest as the company’s burglar... whatever that meant, anyway.

 

However, he couldn’t stay in a troll camp forever and so he set off after the pair, pushing the memory of the dreams and Thorin to the back of his mind.

 

The first thing he noticed was the smell, it was certainly... unique. A cross between rotten flesh and dung, Bilbo supposed, wrinkling his nose. No, he was not going to enter that cave, he was perfectly happy to wait outside whilst they investigated. And he didn’t have to wait long before Gandalf appeared carrying two swords.

 

“Ah Bilbo, I was hoping to find you out here, this looks to be about your size,” he said as he passed Bilbo the shorter of the two which he tentatively took.

 

It felt alien in his hands, and heavy. He’d never used a sword in his life, and up until recently, guessed that he'd never have to. It wouldn’t do him much good anyway- he had no idea how to use the blasted thing.

 

“I’m sorry Gandalf... I can’t take this, I don’t know how to use one,” he attempted to give the wizard back the sword; maybe he’d be able to put it to better use as a dagger.

 

But the wizard held up his hand in refusal, “And I hope you never have to, but there is more than dragons that we may be facing on this journey and I would see you protected Bilbo Baggins. This blade is of Elvish make which means it will glow blue when Orcs or Goblins are nearby. But remember this, true courage is not knowing when to take a life, but when to spare one,” he said ominously as he turned to speak to Thorin again.

 

Bilbo sighed as he saw that Gandalf would not move on the matter, he made quite a persuasive argument. But he also knew how to give Bilbo a headache and leave him thoroughly bemused. He’d have to accept that at some point, he may have to do more than tumble along after a company of dwarves. Regardless, Bilbo still wasn’t happy about it and he pulled back his coat to attempt to buckle the sword onto his belt so that he didn’t have to carry it in his hands the whole way. He looked over at the way Dori had his sword strapped onto his waist and attempted to do the same but he got nowhere, huffing in frustration, he really didn’t want to ask one of the dwarves for help after the mess they’d just been in. Maybe Fili or Kili would help...

 

He felt someone tug at his sleeve and looked to see Bifur beside him, gesturing at his sword and holding out his hand. Slightly worried, Bilbo handed it to him, hoping he didn’t mean to take the sword for himself after Bilbo had just accepted the idea of owning a weapon. But then Bifur proceeded to grasp Bilbo’s belt and strap the sword onto his waist quite comfortably. The hobbit felt ashamed at having assumed that Bifur would have an ulterior motive and thanked the dwarf profusely. Bifur grunted something back and although Bilbo didn’t understand what he’d said, he assumed with the careless wave of his hand that Bifur had said something along the lines of “no problem” or “don’t mention it”.

 

Walking back into the forest to where the company had gathered, he had just enough time to relax and sit down on a log before there were the sounds of rustling through the trees. Someone was approaching and fast. The company immediately readied themselves for attack, pulling out their weapons or drawing their bows in Kili’s case. Alarmed, Bilbo jumped to his feet and unsheathed his new sword, he didn’t realise he’d need to be using it so soon. His heart raced and head pounded as the sounds drew closer.

 

However, when their would-be assailant broke through the undergrowth, they were met with the most curious sight indeed. He was a crazed man in brown robes, wearing a hat that Bofur would be jealous of and brandishing a staff quite similar to Gandalf’s. And he was riding what appeared to be a sleigh and _were those rabbits pulling it?_ Now Bilbo really had seen it all.

 

The company stood awkwardly as the man came to a stop in front of them, yelling incoherently at them all. Clearly this man was insane Bilbo concluded, as did the rest of the company who were unsure whether the man was of yet a threat or simply mad.

 

Finally Gandalf broke the tension, “Ah Radagast!” he exclaimed, greeting the strange man. The dwarves relaxed then, putting away their weapons and sharing a few jokes about the man’s bizarre behaviour and appearance, most notably the bird poo which caked his hair. Bilbo felt strangely sorry for him as he watched him babble away to Gandalf, although that quickly turned to disgust as he saw Gandalf pull a stick-insect out his mouth before they turned away to have a private conversation. Now he just felt sorry for the poor insect, he wondered how he could possible not know that was in there. Or maybe he did and just likes carrying animals about on his person, Bilbo mused.

 

Understanding that neither he nor the company was included in the conversation, he turned to see what the dwarves were doing but his gaze ultimately fell upon Thorin. The King was watching the pair of wizards suspiciously, clearly not appreciating being left out of something important. Remembering what Balin had said about Thorin and strangers he supposed that Thorin didn’t trust the new wizard, although Bilbo wasn’t sure he did either if he was honest. However, if Gandalf trusted him, he guessed he could too, whether the man was crazy or not.

 

Bilbo thought on what Balin had said about Thorin before the loss of his brother and Erebor, perhaps that dwarf was still there despite his gruff exterior- he guessed he’d have to just wait and see as the quest progressed...

 

He didn’t realise how long he’d been watching Thorin until the King had looked away from the wizards and had locked eyes with Bilbo. The hobbit blushed furiously, right up to the tips of his ears- he really needed to stop getting caught staring like this... or just stop staring entirely he thought, still very embarrassed.

 

Thorin just frowned at him and opened his mouth as though to say something but a howl nearby cut off whatever he was going to say as all heads whipped around to find the cause of the noise. Bilbo’s blood ran cold, whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t a wolf, he’d lived through enough winters to know what the hungry howls of wolves sounded like.

 

He barely had enough time to unsheathe his sword again before a mass of brown fur came barrelling through the bushes, aiming straight for them. Kili was far quicker than Bilbo and had already notched an arrow to his bow which was now protruding from the Warg’s skull. It tumbled and fell, coming to a stop just short of the dwarves. Belladonna had told Bilbo of Warg’s, having met a few on her travels; they made wolves seem like meek little kittens.

 

“Warg scouts, which means an Orc pack is not far behind!” Thorin growled. Bilbo was sort-of thankful that Thorin had likely now forgotten all about Bilbo staring at him, although his embarrassment did pale in comparison to their new predicament.

 

“Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?” Gandalf asked Thorin urgently.

 

“No-one!”

 

“Who did you tell?!”

 

“No-one I swear!” Thorin insisted.

 

“We are being hunted,” Gandalf said darkly, and the whole forest seemed to darken at his words. The hairs on the back of Bilbo’s neck stood on end.

 

“The ponies... they’ve bolted!” Ori cried. They were sitting ducks.

 

“You run, I’ll draw them off!” Radagast returned as he mounted his sleigh, readying his over-sized rabbits. But Gandalf put his hand on his friends arm, stopping his preparations.

 

“These are Gundabad Wargs, they’ll out-run you!” Gandalf cried in concern for his friend’s safety.

 

“These are Rhosgobel rabbits! I’d like to see them try,” the brown wizard replied with a mischievous grin. Bilbo wasn’t sure whether he felt reassured by that or even more worried that their only hope of survival was a mad wizard driving a sleigh pulled by rabbits... he did feel touched that the man was risking his life for them and hoped that his confidence was not an overestimation, for the wizard’s sake as well as their own.

 

He had little time to dwell on this before Gandalf had them all running through the forest at a brutal pace. Whilst dwarves may be natural sprinters, Hobbits, with their oversized feet and short legs, preferred to take gentle walks to places.

 

By the time they’d made it out of the forest and out into open plains, Bilbo was out of breath and fatiguing quickly, his heart hammering out a desperate rhythm in his chest. He began to stumble and Thorin, seeing him out of the corner of his eye, quickly grabbed Bilbo’s arm, pulling him along and making sure he didn’t fall behind. He didn’t have the breath to gasp out a ‘thanks’.

 

It didn’t take long before the Wargs caught their scent and began to chase after them, gaining quickly despite Radagast’s distraction. He could hear their excited howls getting closer, their paws drumming out a fast rhythm along the ground.

 

Thorin had to release Bilbo to turn and slash at a Warg who had gotten too close. It fell lifeless to the ground, no match for the Elvish blade. But without Thorin’s support, Bilbo went pitching forward, throwing out his hands to break his fall as he fell to the ground at the same time as the Warg. He winced as he felt his palms graze along the ground, cuts opening up across their length, _Eru that smarted!_

 

Cursing, the King dragged Bilbo to his feet and they were off again, running to catch up with the company. Kili turned and was firing arrows towards their pursuers, causing many Wargs and their mounts to swerve widely or fall dead. They were still vastly outnumbered but it gave them enough time to reach wherever Gandalf was leading them- a hidden tunnel which led somewhere underground.

 

The company were readily throwing themselves down the rocky slope, eager to get away from the immediate danger. Thorin released him again, allowing him to tumble down the slope so that he could cover their escape.

 

He barrelled straight into Bombur who caught him before he went pitching over again and steadied him on his feet.

 

“Careful, Mister Baggins! I’ve got you,” he said as Bilbo found his feet.

 

“Thank you Bombur, and it’s just Bilbo, none of that ‘mister’ business,” he said smiling as he brushed down his waistcoat, stopping when he realised he was just smearing blood from his cuts onto his waistcoat and shirt. Damn it all... blood doesn’t easily come out he thought woefully as he stared down at his favourite items of clothing.

 

He was quickly reminded that this was not the time to be correcting formalities or mourning waistcoats when Thorin and Kili came sliding down to meet them. They were closely followed by a Warg that was dead before it even hit the floor although none of the company had moved towards it.

 

Thorin quickly pulled an arrow out of its flank and after assessing its head, spat out, “ _Elves!”_ as he tossed the arrow to the ground, making Bilbo jump. Why did Thorin bear such hatred for the Elves? Bilbo wondered, he made a mental note to ask Balin later, none of the dwarves seemed too happy that the fair folk were stepping in to help them. In contrast, Bilbo’s fear and exhaustion quickly turned to excitement. He was going to see the Elves! He’d wanted to meet them since his mother had told him of them. After his failed attempts at finding them in the Old Forest and settling down as a respectable bachelor, he never thought he would see this mighty race. 

 

“You led us here on purpose!” Thorin growled accusingly up at Gandalf.

 

“Lord Elrond is not your enemy Thorin. And we have questions which need to be answered if you are going to succeed on this quest,” Gandalf replied quite calmly, knowing he had the upper hand in this matter.

 

Thorin’s dark expression did not clear as he turned and led them through the narrow passageway with a strong determination in his step. Bilbo followed along as best he could, his legs ached from all the running and from being held roughly by the trolls. Oh what he’d give for his nice warm bed he thought as he stepped out onto a carved bridge. His jaw dropped as he gazed at the surrounding valley, all thoughts of home quickly forgotten.

 

His mother’s tales could not prepare him for the beauty which lay before him. The Elvish outpost was built on the side of a sloping valley, with water cascading in waterfalls down the sides- small rainbows forming from the spray. Trees and plants covered the rock face surrounding the buildings; he could smell the pines, it hit him with such force and clarity that he was sure he’d never breathed finer air. He breathed it in deeply, feeling truly relaxed for the first time since the start of the journey.

 

His companions, on the other hand, couldn’t look more disgusted by the fine architecture. “Very _poncey_ ,” he heard someone mutter sarcastically. He rolled his eyes at the comment,  _dwarves..._

 

Bilbo couldn’t stop gazing around him, wide-eyed, drinking in the sights as Gandalf led them across the bridge towards the first of the buildings. He wasn’t even concerned that the walkways didn’t have any banisters. He was far from caring about anything.

 

“Mithrandir! Welcome to Rivendell,” an Elf spoke to them as he descended the steps. Oh Yavanna, if his Tookish cousins could see him now...

 

Gandalf replied in Sindarin, Bilbo just being able to make out the greeting, his Elvish was a little rusty. His companions just glared up at them both as though they were casually slandering Mahal in front of them.  

 

A horn sounded from behind him and the dwarves crowded together, pushing him in the middle protectively. In other circumstances, he may have been touched by their compulsion to protect the smallest member of their group however he did not feel their defensiveness would be well received by the Elves who were rapidly approaching on graceful grey horses. They didn’t stop as they circled the dwarves, causing them to crowd closer together, trapping Bilbo between Ori and an unimpressed Balin.

 

They dismounted and Gandalf quickly embraced one of them, exclaiming a greeting to Lord Elrond who now turned to look down at the company of dwarves. Bilbo looked back at him with shock and awe, so this was the Elf his mother had spoken so highly of.

 

“Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain,” Elrond declared, his gaze directed at the stern King.

 

“I do not believe we have met,” Thorin replied coldly, clearly the King would not be handling inter-racial relations when they reclaimed the Mountain. _If_ they reclaimed the mountain a part of him added which he quickly pushed to the back of his mind, the present was much more exciting than the future right now.

 

“I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain...” Elrond continued.

 

“Really... he made no mention of you,” Thorin said, with no warmth seeping into his tone as he folded his arms across his chest. Bilbo resisted the urge to put his face in his hands in exasperation; surely this was not the best way to go about seeking help.

 

But before he could do anything a voice sounded in his head, “ _Welcome Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.”_ It was a woman’s voice, completely unfamiliar and as Bilbo looked around at his companions, he was sure that none of them had heard it; they were too busy shouting angrily in response to something Lord Elrond had said. Bilbo had been too distracted to translate the Sindarin, he was far more concerned where this voice was coming from. He hoped he wasn’t going mad. One of his great-aunts on his father's side had heard voices- they’d kept her locked in her smial but early one winter morning she’d broken out and they’d found her dead in the snow, the cold having claimed her.

 

Bilbo’s mind was forced back to the present as the dwarves hurried him along, jabbering something about dinner. He remained distracted until he found himself seated at a long table. Platters of all kinds of vegetable and fruit were being laid in front of them and Bilbo’s empty stomach growled in anticipation. Days of eating nothing but watery stew had not quite agreed with him.

 

He eagerly tucked in, quickly forgetting about the voice in his head in favour of filling his plate full of the rich greens which lay tenderly before him. The dwarves looked down on it in disgust, looking wildly around for the meat as though the Elves were purposely trying to poison them by withholding their preferred foods. Bilbo couldn’t find himself to be concerned; he was too busy groaning as a juicy grape burst in his mouth, filling it with its sweet, tart flavour. He’d never tasted such divine food, even the Gamgee’s crops fell short in comparison.

 

Fili and Kili soon forgot about eating in favour of seeing how much food they could get their burglar to eat. They sat at the side of him, passing him plate after plate and Bilbo ate it all until his belly was full and content. He patted it happily and got to his feet as Bofur jumped on a platform to sing. No, he’d rather have an after-dinner walk than suffer through more of Bofur’s singing he thought to himself as he exited the hall. He hoped the Elves did not mind him doing a bit of exploring; it wasn’t everyday you found yourself in the Last Homely House.

 

He passed through halls of stunning architecture, truly amazed at how the Elves had managed to carve wood into such fine designs.

 

As he rounded a corner, his step faltered as he came across a female Elf stood on a balcony with her back to him. She turned to him slowly and gracefully, a warm smile lighting up her features.

 

And then the voice, _her voice_ , sounded in his head again, “ _Greetings Bilbo Baggins,”_ he wondered how she knew his name, but he reminded himself that he should probably be more concerned by how she was managing to talk to him inside his head!

_“My apologies for startling you, but I cannot risk others overhearing our conversation... It appears the Valar have taken a great interest in you Bilbo Baggins, to have been reached by Lord Irmo himself, the Master of Dreams. I see that you have need of some answers before you continue your journey east. Come and sit with me, and I shall explain.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you don't mind that I skipped the troll scene, I couldn't think of how it make it any different from the book or the film so I decided to move the plot onward. Sorry if this chapter was a little boring, I tried to mix things up a bit and add some character development for characters such as Bifur who I actually find to be a very interesting character despite his rather small role in the book and film. Plus I wanted to use this chapter to build on Bilbo's relationships with the company a little. I hope you enjoyed it anyway- the next chapter will more than make up for it I promise :) and I hope the regular updates make up for it
> 
> Next chapter: Super Saturday! Bilbo gets some answers, Thorin gets some answers and no-one is happy is about it. 
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	8. The Fickleness of Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galadriel explains to Bilbo what his dreams mean and the knowledge threatens to overwhelm him

“ _Who are you?”_ Bilbo asked internally, guessing that the she-elf would refuse to speak to him out loud. He didn’t make his way over to the two chairs she was currently gesturing at, his hobbit instincts warned him to be cautious.

 

“ _I am Lady Galadriel, Guardian of Lothlórien. Have no fear Bilbo, I mean you no harm. I merely wish to speak with you,”_ she answered, taking one of the ornate seats.

 

Hesitatively, Bilbo made his way forward and took the seat opposite, not taking his eyes off her face.

 

 _“How do you know who I am?”_ he couldn’t help but ask.

 

_“I know many things, how I know them is neither here nor there. However, I do know dreams have been plaguing your night’s sleep, I know the guilt and responsibility you carry and that you are the one who raised Smaug, Drakunfren.”_

Bilbo’s eyes widened and his heart hammered in his chest. He considered running from her, what if she told the company or Gandalf? His part of the quest would be over and he’d be forced to return home... but again, his Tookish curiosity got the better of him, he wanted to find out what she knew of Smaug and his dreams.

 

 _“Smaug called me that the day he left... do you know what it means?”_ he asked warily.

 

_“I do, but I shall not tell you, that is between you and him.”_

Bilbo huffed slightly in frustration- he’s been waiting 30 years to find out what Smaug’s last words were. But, he supposed he could wait a few more months...

 

“ _So... we shall definitely meet again?”_

_“It appears your paths are destined to cross, but nothing is for certain, the future is forever changeable. And that brings me to these dreams you have been having, Lord Irmo has gifted you with an insight into what may yet come to past. It is likely the Valar want you to act on this however only your choices can determine the future. They can only give you knowledge, it is you who must act upon your options.”_

_“But what do they mean? That Thorin will go mad and that Smaug, Fili, Kili and Thorin will die? How am I supposed to prevent that?”_ he asked in desperation, this was too much for a young hobbit to bear.

 

_“Should Thorin receive the Arkenstone, he will go mad with the same sickness which plagued his grandfather and so he shall fall, as will his sister-sons thus ending the line of Durin. Aulë would like to avoid such an end for his children. As for Smaug, a singular choice will hinge on whether he lives or dies and that must be made by you.”_

Bilbo put his head in his hands, bracing his elbows on his knees as he stared down at his feet, the new information threatened to overwhelm him. “ _How do I know which choice is the right one?”_

_“There is no right choice. You must do what you_ feel _is right, when the time comes, you will know what you need to do,”_ she replied ominously. Bilbo did not feel reassured in the slightest.

 

She continued, “ _The winds of war are stirring. Should war break out and the fighting commence without your intervention, hundreds of lives will be lost, those are the lives which you saw in your dream. The battle of five armies it shall be called and it is imperative that all armies are present. The dwarves_ cannot _stand alone and they cannot lose this battle, or the fate of middle earth may be endangered greatly. Erebor_ must _not fall again.”_

_“But what intervention?! I don’t know what I need to do... I cannot do this alone...”_

_“And in the end, you shall not be alone, but I am forbidden from informing you of your options or of the decisions you will have to make. Those you must make alone,”_ she replied, staying as calm as ever despite the fact Bilbo was close to breaking point.

 

 _“Why?”_ he asked simply, feeling like a petulant child, he didn’t understand what was stopping her from just telling him, if his part in the future was that important, why let him go into this partially blind?

 

 _“If I tell you what crossroads you will come to, you will seek to avoid them... whether you consciously intend to do so or not, and that will be your downfall as well as the downfall of those around you. But know this Bilbo of the Shire, even the smallest being can change the course of the future,”_ she answered softly, giving him a look which was almost pitying. _“No matter what you do, your journey is set to end with at least one death of someone close to you, who that is is yet undetermined- It could be your death or one of your comrades, friends, family or someone you have yet to meet... However, should you succeed; hundreds of lives will be saved.”_

 

Bilbo’s head spun, he felt ready to faint again but he managed to stay conscious, he had a lot to think about.

 

 _“Do not fear, many of these decisions will not need to be made for a long time to come. For now, rest and enjoy the peace whilst it lasts. I have a gift for you which will aid you in your quest,”_ she added.

 

Bilbo raised his head at this- he was willing to take anything which could be of the slightest help at this point. Reaching inside her robes, she pulled out a small red orb, no bigger than a chicken’s egg. Passing it to the hobbit, he held it gingerly in his hand- it fit snugly against his palm. Looking at it, he could see it wasn’t entirely red, it was partially clear, and at its centre he could see a glowing orange light, almost as though a fire burned there. It felt warm too, like a living being was held inside of it.

 

“ _What is it?”_ he asked confused, not understanding how a stone would be of any help. Perhaps it had hidden magical properties he mused.

 

_“Mountains are not the only ones with hearts of stone although dwarves will not admit it. When a dragon dies, this is all that is left- their Heartstone. It is the source of their magic, their ability to breathe fire and their soul. Dragons covert a love of these stones, they are their most prized pieces within their hoards. However, a dragon has not owned one in many an age.”_

_“What am I supposed to do with it?”_ Already guessing the answer, but knowing it couldn’t hurt to ask anyway, just in case.

 

She smiled patiently, “ _You will know when the time comes.”_

_“Thank you,”_ he said honestly, he understood her trying to help. But he wasn’t sure whether he wanted all this responsibility, it was far more than he’d bargained for when he’d signed that contract.

 

“Master Baggins,” a voice boomed from the archway. Looking around, he saw Thorin stood in the doorway. Bilbo cleared his face, hoping his anxiety was not betrayed in his expression.

 

“Yes Master Oakenshield?” he answered, surprisingly calm as he discreetly slipped the Heartstone into his trouser pocket.

 

“Bombur says you have some cuts on your palms. Oin would like to take a look at them before they become infected.”

 

Bilbo turned to face Galadriel, hoping she would allow him to leave, he didn’t want the dwarves shunning him for choosing the company of an Elf over their help.

 

“Go, Master Baggins, your friends require your presence,” she said smiling, her whole expression lighting up. It made Bilbo feel slightly better.

 

She stood with him as he got up to leave and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder before he could turn away. Bending down, she pressed a kiss into his curls.

 

 _“Do not feel guilty for Smaug’s actions, his failures are not your own,”_ she reassured him, pulling back to stare deeply into his eyes; his own almost welled up at her kind words. But he managed to keep a hold of himself; it would not do to start crying in front of a Lady and a King. With a stiff bow, he exited the balcony with Thorin, not daring to meet his eyes in fear of what they may contain.

 

Before they reached the hall where the dwarves were residing however, Thorin pulled him to one side, forcing him to meet his piercing blue gaze.

 

“Did you tell her anything about our quest?” he asked urgently, suspicion marring his expression.

 

Slightly affronted, Bilbo answered, “No... I did not. However, I do not think she would try to stop us even if I did.” He was honest at least, he didn’t tell her anything, she already knew what they were doing and more.

 

Thorin just leered at him, “And what would you know about what an _Elf_ would or would not do, Halfling?”

 

He wasn’t sure what made him say what he said next, maybe it was the stress and pressure placed on him or his mother’s blood pumping through his veins. Either way, he’d had enough. “Look Thorin... I won’t pretend to know what you’ve been through or what you’ve lost. I lost both my parents from a young age and from that, I do know this, isolation is a choice. You cannot push everyone away who tries to help you, including me. None of us has to go through anything alone.” Clamping his mouth shut as soon as he’d said it, where in all of Aman had that come from? A blush spread across his cheeks at his daring.

 

Thorin just stared at him, eyes wide and jaw clenched. He didn’t look angry, shocked more than anything, as though Bilbo had just asked him to strip naked and run through the halls screaming ‘I love elves’...

 

Not waiting for an answer for fear of what he might say, “I’ll just err... go and check these cuts with Oin then...” hurriedly backing out of the small room Thorin had pulled him into.

 

He didn’t look behind him to see whether Thorin was following him, but judging by the lack of sound of heavy footsteps, Thorin had stayed where he was.

 

Managing to calm down, he strolled into the hall the dwarves were resting, seeking Oin out. Seeing his ear trumpet popping up over the heads of all the dwarves, he made his way over, slipping onto the bench facing him.

 

“Ah lad, Bombur says you hurt your hands?” Oin practically bellowed at him, causing all the dwarves to look around at what was going on.

 

“Just a few cuts, nothing to worry about I’m sure,” he replied, raising his voice for the deaf dwarf.

 

“I’ll be the judge of that, let’s have a look at them,” he commanded, holding out his hands for Bilbo’s.

 

Reluctantly, he placed his hands palm upwards on the table in front of Oin’s. The cuts weren’t deep and had scabbed over already, but they hadn’t been cleaned since he’d fallen and the skin was looking slightly inflamed.

 

Grabbing a rag from his bag, Oin dipped it in the crystal water jug to clean Bilbo’s palms so he could see them properly. Bilbo tried not to wince as the rag gently dabbed at his cuts, washing away the dirt and grime which had slowly built up over days of travelling.

 

“You’ve got some nasty burn scars here lad, how’d you get them may I ask and when?”

 

Still shaken from his meeting with Galadriel and confrontation with Thorin he blurted out quickly, “Err just from cooking... I accidently grabbed a hot pan. It was about three decades ago.”

 

“Ah I see... it’s just that we dwarves are forever treating burns, since so many of us have worked in forges at some point in our lives you see. I have some ointments that I could lend you which may fade the scarring a little, it’s difficult to tell with old scars but it couldn’t hurt to try?”

 

“That would be wonderful Oin, thank you,” he replied, truly grateful. After he’d moved on in his life when Smaug had gone, the burns had been a constant reminder of the friend he’d lost. And now they were a constant reminder of what lay ahead and his part in the dwarves’ tragedies.

 

“Not a problem lad, I’ll treat them here whilst I’m treating these cuts,” he said as he opened a pot of clear salve which he proceeded to rub gently across Bilbo’s palms. It was incredibly soothing, already cooling the inflamed skin. “I’ll just wrap some bandages across them to let the salve and ointments soak in properly, you should be able to take them off tomorrow,” proceeding to wrap linen bandages around his palms.

 

“Thank you Oin, you have been a great help,” he couldn’t help but feel indebted to the dwarf.

 

“Just doing my job as the company’s healer, it wouldn’t do for our burglar to lose his hands now would it,” he replied with a wry grin which Bilbo returned.

 

After Oin had finished treating his hands, he sat back to watch the other dwarves in the hall. He couldn’t help but think on Galadriel’s words... it could be any one of these dwarves in front of him who dies but he pushed his concerns away, whilst grief was certain, there was no use playing a guessing game as to who it might be he concluded. Although he knew it would continue to bother him, worsening with every new person he met on the journey.

 

Gazing around, he saw Ori scribbling away in his notebook again. Deciding that he may as well continue bonding with the company, he made his way over to him.

 

“What are you writing there Ori?” causing said dwarf to jump slightly in his seat as he was pulled away from his deep thoughts.

 

“Oh... hello Bilbo, sorry I’m just keeping a diary of our travels and making notes about the Elves of Rivendell. I also draw... I’ve been drawing pictures of Rivendell today if you’d like to see?” he asked nervously, clearly not used to being approached.

 

“I’d love to,” Bilbo replied smiling as he sat down next the young dwarf who passed him his sketchbook.

 

The excruciating detail was extraordinary; the attention taken to every tree, waterfall and archway was truly spectacular considering they’d only been in Rivendell a few hours. He’d even managed to sketch Lord Elrond, capturing his image down to the last wrinkle. They were beautiful and he told Ori as such, unable to hide the awe in his voice. He’d attempted to get into drawing but had ended up more as a writer than anything, favouring to paint his pictures with words.

 

Ori blushed, “You’re too kind Master Baggins,” he enthused, smiling at Bilbo who smiled back.

 

They talked for a while as they compared opinions on books they’d read and recommending other reads. Ori told him of the great library that had been in Erebor, rows upon rows of dwarvish history and stories. He hoped that Smaug had not destroyed it, it sounded wonderful. Ori also filled him in on what had transpired in his absence, apparently the swords Gandalf and Thorin now possessed were very famous indeed... he wondered whether his sword was at all famous but then he realised that, to big-folk, his sword was no more than a dagger, and daggers were not oft named in battle.

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

 

As night fell, Gandalf came to find him.

 

“Ah Bilbo, thought I might find you here, we are about to seek Lord Elrond’s council regarding the map and I would much appreciate your presence,” he rasped out to Bilbo hurriedly.

 

Getting to his feet, he called out a “Good night” to Ori before following Gandalf through corridors and up steps before they reached a long entrance hall. Looking around the room, he noticed Lord Elrond stood in the middle with Thorin and Balin stood at the side, pointedly ignoring each other. Bilbo kept his eyes away from Thorin, he knew he wouldn’t confront him over his previous outburst with an audience but he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his scowls at the moment.

 

“Ah Mithrandir, you said you required some assistance?” Lord Elrond asked, addressing Gandalf.

 

“Yes... Thorin here has a map which we have been unable to read. You do still speak ancient dwarvish do you not?” Gandalf replied.

 

“I do, may I see this map?” Elrond asked, turning to Thorin who stiffened under his gaze.

 

“That map is part of my heritage, its secrets are mine to keep,” Thorin replied defensively, keeping his arms firmly folded over his chest.

 

“Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves! Lord Elrond is one of the few who can read that map, show it to him!” Gandalf commanded, bearing down on the dwarf.

 

Thorin furrowed his brow for a moment and reluctantly unfolded his arms to slowly remove the map from inside his coat. At least Thorin was not so stubborn as to jeopardise their quest for the sake of maintaining his pride. Still, despite Balin’s wisdom, he still cried out in protest, attempting to stop the King who held up his hand to silence his advisor.

 

With great slowness, as though Lord Elrond was a feral dog that may bite his hand off, Thorin passed the map over to the Elf who immediately took it and studied it intently as he paced the room.

 

“This here is a map of Erebor... what is your interest in the lonely mountain?” he asked the group, throwing confused glances between the dwarves, Gandalf and Bilbo as though trying to piece it together from the strangeness of their group. After all, why would a hobbit leave the shire to travel with dwarves and why would secretive dwarves choose to travel with outsiders?

 

Before Thorin could open his mouth to reply with a comment, that would have no doubt to have been hostile, Gandalf interrupted.

 

“Purely academic,” he replied, smiling. He looked nervous, Bilbo noted which was unusual for the wizard.

 

Lord Elrond hummed in response, clearly unconvinced but he was not going to push the matter, “This map contains hidden moon runes... they must be read by the same light they were written,” he concluded with distinct finality in his voice.

 

Stepping forward, Thorin asked urgently, but not with hostility, “Can you read them?”

 

“Luck is with you Thorin Oakenshield, for the same moon shines with us tonight,” Elrond said smiling. Well that’s terribly convenient Bilbo couldn’t help but think. “It seems as though you were destined to arrive here tonight,” he continued.

 

 _Destiny_... Bilbo was beginning to hate the idea of it. Surely he had some control of his life? That all his life was not ultimately always leading to this, surely he had a say in what happened. He could go now, walk home and forget about the quest, Thorin and Smaug. But he wouldn’t... there was too much at stake, too much that relied on him. Maybe he was just Destiny’s fool he thought bitterly, stuck in a spiral which only led in one direction because of what he knew about the future. If he left, he would be forever destroyed by guilt for turning his back on lives he could save. He felt trapped in his own life.

 

But he reminded himself that he at least had some choices, choices over who he shared his life with at least, friends and more. He just hoped the quest would not take those few friends he had and had ever had away from him.

 

He’d become so distracted, he hadn’t even noticed Lord Elrond leading them up onto a ledge carved into the cliff face, water cascading down from the rock above. As moonlight shone through the water, it danced across the rock, a pale but pure light, quite unlike that of sunlight.

 

Turning, Bilbo saw Elrond place the map on a crystal table, allowing it to be bathed in the moonlight. Slowly, runes began to appear on the map, showing up in an iridescent blue colour.

 

Elrond began to read, “Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s day will shine upon the keyhole.”

 

“So that settles it,” Balin spoke firmly to Thorin, “We must be standing at exactly the right spot, at exactly the right time and then and only then, will the door be opened.”

 

“So this is your purpose... to enter the mountain?” Elrond asked Thorin who glared back at him.

 

“What of it?” he scoffed.

 

“There are some who would not deem it wise,” Elrond replied ominously and thus concluding the meeting. Gandalf exited with Elrond, leaving Thorin, Balin and Bilbo together on the cliff face.

 

Thorin and Bilbo’s eyes met for a moment and he nodded at them both before exiting, perhaps his previous outburst had done some good... he hadn’t ignored him at least.

 

Before Balin could follow, Bilbo caught his sleeve and asked, “Please could I ask you something?”

 

“Of course laddie,” Balin replied, smiling, his hostility with the Elf quickly dissipating.

 

“I don’t want to pry but I couldn’t help but wonder... why do the dwarves, Thorin in particular, not get along with the Elves?”

 

Balin’s smile quickly fell and was replaced with a stern but thoughtful expression, “Dwarves and Elves haven’t gotten along for centuries, although alliances were kept, bad relations lingered. Accusations were made against each race, who had stolen certain jewels and even accusations of murder were made. Thranduil, the King of Mirkwood, in particular pined over gems of starlight in Thror’s halls, believing them to be belonging to his ancestors. However, since neither party could falsify their claims, the alliances stood, mainly for trading purposes and in the hope that, when in trouble, one race would help the other.”

 

He paused, sighing deeply before continuing, “Thorin, and many of us here, harbour poor relations with Elves because after Erebor fell we received no help from them. Thranduil himself sat upon his Elk and watched us as we fled the mountain. And it wasn’t simply a matter of he not aiding us against the dragon, it was also that he did not aid in rescue of the dwarves still trapped in the mountain and he did not aid our sick and injured resulting in many more lives being lost than necessary. At that point, he had broken the alliance we had with him. And yes, the Elves of Rivendell could not help being so far away, but we received no aid from them either after the loss of our home, not until today that is. And even now they may yet try and stop our last chance of returning to the life we’ve lost...” he trailed off, losing his words to the deep emotion stirred from his past.

 

“I understand... Is there no hope of another Dwarf and Elf alliance,” he asked, thinking on what Galadriel had said regarding the battle to come.

 

“I-It’s not impossible I suppose... but highly unlikely... relations have not improved over the years and are not likely to today,” he finished, giving Bilbo a solemn look.

 

How was he supposed to ensure that the dwarves did not stand alone in the war to come if they refused to put ancient history behind them, and that was without even considering putting the events of the last 10 years behind them?

 

The Elves of Rivendell were too far out of the way to help if the battle was to come suddenly, and he had no time to spend here trying to mend broken alliances. No, if the Elves were going to help, he’d have to speak with the Elves of Mirkwood, until then he had time to prepare exactly how he was going to win their trust. If Balin was to be believed, Thranduil was going to be just as stubborn as Thorin, success was going to require all his Tookish cunning...

 

“Thank you Balin,” he said smiling at the elderly dwarf, “You’ve given me a lot to think about,” and a lot to act on he added silently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the chapters I've very much looked forward to writing so feeling great seeing it posted :) A very plot crammed chapter, a lot of important stuff going on so I hope it all makes at least some sense, we'll revisit some things later on anyway. Spent quite a while editing this one, adding and changing entire paragraphs haha I hope you enjoyed it, let me know what you think, I'm curious to know ;) 
> 
> If you have any questions or things you don't understand, feel free to ask :) I won't be spoiling anything though :P
> 
> Not long now before we have some Thilbo Bagginshield action and fluff at long last, just a few more chapters to go :) 
> 
> Next Chapter: Monday! The dwarves sneak out of Rivendell, we have some trouble in the mountains and Bofur tries to play matchmaker
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	9. Matters of Stone and Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company attempt to traverse the mountains and Bofur attempts to play matchmaker

When Bilbo woke the next morning, he was confused. He was comfortable for the first time since he’d left his home. Rolling over, he opened his eyes and saw the room surrounding him, remembering where he was and all that had happened since their chase through the forest.

 

He groaned as the memories of all he had learned in just the past 24 hours came crashing down on his still half asleep brain. Reluctant to get up, he rolled over onto his back to stare at the ceiling, hoping to calm the rapidly building panic swelling in his chest. All of this because he’d nosed into his mother’s things... not for the first time, he wished he’d never laid eyes on that egg, that his mother had never brought it home. Then he’d be safe, back at Bag- End, not faced with a future he had to change.

 

Sitting up suddenly and getting to his feet, he snapped himself out of his self-pity. His mother would be ashamed of him, he thought to himself, she wouldn’t have given up without a fight. Whilst he cannot change the past, he can change the future, he needed to focus on that right now, _not_ what could have been if things had gone differently.  

 

A knock sounded at his door, causing him to jump.

 

“Come in,” Bilbo called out as he straightened his shirt.

 

The door opened and the smirking face of Kili peered round. Seeing he was decent, Kili stepped in and was closely followed by a sleepy looking Fili.

 

“C’mon Bilbo! Get dressed, Uncle says we’re leaving in a few minutes,” Kili told him in a furious whisper.

 

“ _A few minutes?!_ What’s going on?” he whispered back, although he didn’t understand why he needed to keep his voice down.

 

“The Elves are going to stop us. We need to leave now whilst Gandalf is distracting them. He’ll meet us later on,” Fili supplied, rubbing the sleep out of eyes.

 

“Right... okay I’ll just get dressed and I’ll be right out,” Bilbo whispered. It wouldn’t take him long, not expecting a lengthy stay, he hadn’t bothered unpacking.

 

Fili and Kili left the room to give him privacy to change.

 

As he slipped his jacket back on, he felt the Heartstone lying by his hip, its warmth radiating through the fabric. Bilbo had moved it there from his trousers so that it did not get lost in his washing. It reassured him to know it was still there, its heat was oddly soothing.

 

He stepped out into the hall, hitching his pack more tightly onto his back. Fili and Kili were waiting for him and the three of them walked through the halls silently, Fili slipping ahead to make sure the coast was clear.

 

Luckily, they met no Elves on their way and managed to make it to the outskirts of Rivendell without being bothered. The company were gathered around a mountain pass, making their last checks before they set off.

 

Seeing the trio, Thorin ordered them to set off in a hushed command. As the company packed the last of their possessions and adjusted their packs on their shoulders, Bilbo turned to get one last look at Rivendell.

 

It was even more beautiful in the golden morning light which streamed through the valley, casting long shadows as it hit the buildings set onto the stone. Despite the stressful elements of his stay, he would miss the Last Homely House. He wished he had the chance to speak to Galadriel again, if he could have just got some more information out of her before they were interrupted...

 

“Master Baggins, keep up,” Thorin called gruffly from behind him.

 

Turning, he saw the Dwarf standing with his arms crossed, impatiently waiting for him as the company filed past the King onto the mountain pass. Sighing, he cast one last glance at Rivendell before trailing after Nori, avoiding looking at the abyss stretching out at the side of them.

 

The sooner they got through these blasted mountains the better.

 

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

As evening drew in and the sky darkened, it began to rain. The droplets of water hitting Bilbo’s curls and running down his forehead like icy beads of sweat.

 

“We need to find shelter,” Balin called back to Thorin as the rain picked up. Thunder clapped above their heads, causing many dwarves and a shivering hobbit to startle, falling back onto the mountain side to avoid plummeting to their death.

 

If they didn’t find shelter soon, they may be washed off the side, the rocks were becoming incredibly slippery for Bilbo’s poor hobbit feet. They didn’t have the grip the strong dwarvish boots had. But in all the hours they’d traversed the mountain, they hadn’t come across a single ledge or cave. Not one.

 

He was glad he’d kept the bandages on his hands- they gave his battered hands some protection from the cruel, sharp rocks.

 

Although, they were off little use against falling rocks he thought grimly as a large boulder went sailing towards their side of the mountain, shattering just a few meters ahead of them. They crouched down, throwing their arms over their head, or as in Thorin’s case- his shield, to protect them from the scattered debris. He felt small fragments pepper his arms and stick into his curls, but thankfully any large stones missed the company.

 

Peering through his arms, he looked up, his eyes widening in horror as he saw the scene unfolding in front of him. The waves of lightening streaking across the inky sky illuminated a man... no not a man, a giant made of stone that was stood in the abyss, bearing down on them as it hurled another stone at the rock face.

 

The hobbit flattened himself against the wall behind him, terror coursing through him as he thought of any possible way they could escape, his mind coming up blank. They couldn’t go back, they’d come too far from Rivendell and they’d seen no place of shelter on their way. They couldn’t go forward and enter the line of fire, the giant was unrelenting in his attack on the mountain. He wondered why the giant was attacking the stone around them but then the stone beneath them shifted, quickly answering his question.

 

The dwarves huddled closer together, clinging on to each other and the rock for dear life. Feeling someone grab his arm, he looked to see the pale face of Kili, his once grinning face now reflecting how Bilbo felt. They locked arms, holding on tight to each other as the stone shuddered. Looking to his left, he had just enough time to grab onto Ori’s arm before the rock beneath them pulled away from the mountainside.

 

He looked up, seeing the head of another giant forming from the rock to meet his opponent. They were standing on the knees of a stone giant!

 

The company were now split between the two knee-caps. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Kili lose his grip on Fili causing the brothers to become separated. Kili cried out to his brother, trying with one last grab to pull Fili onto their side but Bilbo pulled him back with all his might, he was too far away now and Kili would likely fall trying to reach him. The dwarf prince fell back into Bilbo, pushing them into the rock-face, Kili’s breathing came out in shaky gasps. 

 

Fear gripped him as the giant took an unsteady step forward, the rock they were standing on sloping forwards dangerously. They threw their weight back to avoid pitching off the edge. He didn’t want to die like this, so cold and far away from home, but more than anything, he didn’t want to die feeling so afraid.

 

Lightening split the sky as their giant punched the other, causing him to stumble but not to fall as he countered with a shove of his own. They moved with great slowness, but the force of their blows were not softened in the slightest, every blow causing the company to cry out in concern for each other’s safety. The grip Kili had on his arm was almost painful but he didn’t begrudge him for it, he was sure he would have plummeted after the first few blows if not for Kili.

 

As the opposing giant head-butted theirs, the giant twisted and began to fall towards the side of the mountain. Half of the company managed to jump onto a ledge to safety but Bilbo and the other half were trapped on the giant’s knee, hurtling towards the cliff with no stop in sight.

 

He dimly heard the other dwarves crying out to them, putting out a quick prayer to Yavanna in desperation before they fell into the mountainside. He closed his eyes as he waited for the darkness to close over him.

 

He felt Kili’s grip on his arm loosen and his own to drop from Ori’s arm but he didn’t feel any pain or crushing as he might have expected. Nervously, he opened his eyes to peer around him. They were now crouched back on the side of the mountain, the ledge above them having protected them from getting crushed. He breathed out a shaky sigh of relief, the other half the company rushing forwards to check on them. Kili let go of him to rush forward and embrace his brother, they were both incredibly shaken by the events of the past few minutes.

 

But as he stood to watch the giant fall between the two mountains, he saw something red fall out the corner of his vision. The Heartstone had fallen out of his pocket! Panicking, he threw himself forward to grab it and managed to stuff it back into his coat before he lost his footing and slipped off the edge of the mountain.

 

His heart leaped into his throat as he threw his arms around wildly, hoping to grab onto any purchase of rock. He felt a strong hand grip his wrist and hurl him roughly back onto the ledge before he could plummet to his death. He lost his balance again and ended up falling flat on his bottom, bruising his coccyx and causing him to wince in pain. But at least he was safe. Looking up, he saw the Thorin’s stern expression bearing down on him.

 

Before he could thank the dwarf for saving his life, Dwalin stepped forward, “I thought we were about to lose our burglar!”

 

“He’s been lost ever since he left home! He should never have come, he has no place amongst us,” Thorin growled out, turning his back on the shocked and shaken hobbit. Okay... maybe his words to Thorin at Rivendell hadn’t been as well received as Bilbo had dared to hope.

 

“There’s a cave here!” Thorin called out as he disappeared from view.

 

Kili let go of his brother and stepped towards Bilbo, stretching out his hand to help the hobbit up. “I’m sorry I let go of your arm,” he said guiltily, “It’s my fault you fell.”

 

Bilbo threw him a grateful glance as he was pulled to his feet, “It’s not your fault Kili, it’s nobody’s fault, I just lost my balance,” he smiled at the young dwarf whose face softened a little before they turned away from each other to enter the cramped cave.

 

“Get some rest, we leave at first light. And no fires, there are goblins in these parts, we can’t risk being seen,” Thorin ordered, setting himself down at the edge of the cave, “Bofur you take first watch.”

 

Fantastic, he was going to be sleeping cold, hungry and injured, Bilbo thought bitterly as he unpacked his bedroll and placed it down next to Ori’s. It was going to be a long night.

 

The other dwarves set themselves down around him, huddling close to each other for warmth. But Bilbo had no-one to move to, the dwarves had moved into family groups to cuddle. Gazing around, he saw that only he and Thorin were lying alone. Fili and Kili were entwined in each other’s arms, reluctant to let go of each other after their close shave.

 

He hunkered down anyway, willing sleep to come for him. The soft snores of the company filling the cave as though taunting Bilbo, sleep continuing to evade him. He was just too cold!

 

This was ridiculous, he thought to himself, and decided to go sit with Bofur on watch, he could at least use the company.

 

Bofur smiled at him over his pipe as he made his way over, “Sleep not finding you lad?”

 

“No,” he replied setting himself down at his side, “I think the events are still too fresh in my mind. I don’t know how you can just set yourself down after something like that, we nearly died.”

 

Bofur chuckled at him, “We’re used to it I suppose, dangerous places mountains are to live. The dragon was far worse to deal with and after dealing with armies of Orcs and Wargs, we get used to moving on with our lives,” he finished solemnly.

 

“Maybe Thorin was right... maybe I’m not cut out for this...” doubt clouding his mind, he wouldn’t leave, he had far too much to do, but he still felt incredibly alone in his problems. How was he supposed to save Erebor from Smaug and stop a war when he couldn’t deal with just two stone giants? He wished he could confide in someone, anyone. But he couldn’t, as soon as they knew what Bilbo had done, he didn’t think his relations with the dwarves would last.

 

“Hey, don’ mind Thorin lad. He’s just not used to having someone who isn’t a dwarf with him. He probably likes yeh, just doesn’t know how to show it, he’s been so serious these past few years, he’s probably forgot how to have a normal conversation with someone.”

 

“ _Likes me?!_ Are you mad Bofur? He practically hates my guts!” he replied in a furious whisper.

 

“Aye, I’ll admit, he’s not the most eloquent of dwarves... but he does look out for ya. As soon as Bombur mentioned you’d hurt yourself, he shot off to find yeh, he doesn’t do that for everyone let me tell you,” Bofur replied, his face serious. Seeing Bilbo stare back at him, clearly unconvinced, he continued, “And I saw him helping you in the Warg attack, made sure you didn’t get turned into Warg food.”

 

“H-he was just making sure the company wasn’t bereft of its Burglar...” although he did have to admit, Thorin’s behaviour had been a strange mixture of subtle concern and hostility. But this was insane, there was no way a King would be interested in a lowly hobbit such as himself. “... you must be mistaken Bofur.”

 

“You’ll see, his royal stubbornness will show his colours eventually,” he assured Bilbo, “Are you not interested in him? Not even a little?” he asked cheekily, elbowing the hobbit who glared at him.

 

“I don’t know! I mean, I haven’t really thought about it... are you sure he’s asleep?” his faced turning bright red as he looked over at Thorin’s still form. His back was to them but his shoulders seemed to be rising and falling slowly.

 

“Absolutely... So you don’t think he’s handsome?”

 

“What?! No! Well... h-he is I suppose... but he’s so...”

 

“Rude? Obnoxious? Stubborn?”

 

“Well... yeah,” he agreed exasperatedly.

 

“And if he wasn’t?”

 

“Well... then things would be different... but he is and that’s the point,” he replied defensively. Could he see himself with Thorin? If he wasn’t such a pig-headed lump of a dwarf then he guessed there could be something... his company clearly respected him and he cared for his nephews dearly. But he couldn’t... his association with Smaug rendered it practically impossible. He’d never be able to tell Thorin that he’d raised the creature who’d taken his home, not if he wanted to succeed in his personal quest. He couldn’t base a relationship around lies.

 

Why was he even thinking this through? It’s not as if Thorin would ever make a move even if he was interested, and his attitude towards Bilbo clearly showed he wasn’t.

 

“Hey, what’s that?” Bofur said, pointing to Bilbo’s sword.

 

Looking down, Bilbo could see a faint glimmer of blue shining through the crease where the hilt met the scabbard. Oh no... Pulling it out he saw the blade was shining bright blue.

 

He just had enough time to gasp out, “Goblins,” before a heavy cranking sound echoed through the cave, the sand covering the floor slipping through a rapidly appearing crack.

 

In response to the noise, the company shot awake and jumped to their feet, looking wildly round for the source of the noise. He didn’t even have time to notice how Thorin seemed to be the first on his feet before the floor fell away, plunging them into darkness.

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

He sat up, rubbing his head where he’d hit it in his fall, trying to remember how he’d somehow managed to end up in a dark cave alone surrounded by large mushrooms that had apparently cushioned his fall.

 

It came back to him in flashes- the thunder-battle, Thorin saving him, the conversation with Bofur, falling and then the company getting captured. But how did he end up here? He’d been left behind... that was it... the goblins hadn’t noticed him. Only a guard had seen him and they’d both fallen in their struggle.

 

He looked round, wide eyed and shaking, looking for the goblin that had fallen with him. He peered round a group of rocks he was partially hidden behind but he didn’t see any other being in the cavern with him. What he did see however, was a large amount of black blood staining the floor... it looked as though he’d been dragged through the cave, heading in the direction of the only exit.

 

He thanked Yavanna that whatever had taken the Goblin had missed him, he needed to get out, he needed to find the company. If they were still alive, a part of him said. No, he quickly stamped that thought down- Thorin and the dwarves were fighters, they’d get through this somehow. He could feel the reassuring warmth of the Heartstone in his pocket, at least he’d managed to keep a hold of that and his sword. And then he realised the blade of his sword was still blue which meant only one thing... the goblin was not only still alive but it wasn’t far away which meant that whatever had taken it was also close by.

 

Carefully, getting to his feet so as to not make a sound, he inched forward towards the tunnel. But then he felt something cold and hard beneath his foot, quite unlike that of stone.

 

Frowning, he moved his foot off of the object and peered down at it. A plain gold ring lay before him. He felt drawn to it, as though it was familiar somehow. Bilbo picked it up and turned it over in his fingers. Seeing nothing on the ring, he slipped it into his pocket with the Heartstone, it was just a trinket he could keep as a souvenir if he survived this he supposed.

 

But then he froze as a tortured cry sounded through the cave, echoing of the walls and chilling Bilbo’s very soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure about this chapter, let me know what you think, I got immense writer's block working on this one and was having a bad day. But hey ho, it's out now haha just written the next chapter and it's 5k words, 5k words guys?! So much happens in that chapter, I considered splitting it in two but thought I'd treat you all with that monster. We'll have some Thorin POV in the next chapter too so we'll get another glimpse at what's going on in that crazy dwarfs head. Hope you enjoy it anyway! Comments and critique are welcome :) 
> 
> Next Chapter: Wednesday! Bilbo meets Gollum, Thorin meets the Goblin King and is reunited with an old enemy
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	10. Of Strange Creatures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo meets Gollum, Thorin meets the Goblin King and an old enemy makes an appearance

His breathing quickened as the sounds of the cry faded around him, the only noises now being the soft lapping of nearby water. Bilbo looked down at his sword, the blue light along the blade flickered and went out... the goblin was dead.

 

He placed a hand over his mouth to cover the sounds of his breaths whilst he considered his options- he could stay here and hope that one of the company found him or that the creature passed but there was no guarantee that the dwarves would be able to help and the creature could stay here for a long time to come, Bilbo didn’t have the time to wait him out. If it had already seen him but presumed him dead, it would come back for his body and he would meet the same fate as the goblin. He could try and sneak past it whilst it was busy with the goblin Bilbo supposed, it wasn’t the best plan but it was the only plan he had. At least he knew that whatever it was, it wasn’t an Orc or Goblin judging by the colour of his sword blade.

 

After quickly assessing whether there was any other way forward and seeing none, he moved out of the cave, hoping the creature wouldn’t be able to hear the frantic beat of his heart which was currently pounding in his ears. He followed the tunnel, barely being able to see the walls around him and having to feel his way along in parts, the rock slimy and cold beneath his hands and feet. But eventually, it opened out into a large cavern containing a lake, and at its centre was a small island with what seemed to have taken the goblin perched atop of it.

 

Bilbo threw himself behind a large boulder, praying to the Valar that it hadn’t seen him. He still had no idea what it was. In the quick glimpse he’d received of its silhouette, he could tell it was no bigger than a Hobbit but it was far more skinny and twisted, contrasting a Hobbit’s soft belly and features.

 

He clutched his sword between his sweaty palms, back flat against the boulder behind him, straining his ears for any sign of movement. He started to relax as all he heard were the lapping of water against the shore, hitting the pebbles on the beach. Maybe he’d gotten lucky after all...

 

The only warning was a fragment of rock hitting his head before the monstrous creature threw himself in front of him, its pale orb-like eyes glaring at him hungrily in the darkness. Bilbo raised his sword automatically with shaking arms, hoping that it would be less interested in him if its meal was armed and very much alive!

 

“Bless us and splash us, my precious! A tasty morsel it will make us, yes yessss, Gollum!” it chocked.

 

“Stay back! I will use this if I have to!” Bilbo threatened, waving his sword a little wildly, his voice betraying his nerves.

 

Gollum snarled at him, revealing a few broken teeth in his gaping maw, “But what is it precious, _what is it? Gollum!”_

 

Feeling for once that he may have the upper-hand in this fight, Bilbo responded, “My name is Bilbo Baggins. I’m lost and I would very much like to find my way out if you would show me, and I won’t hurt you.”

 

“What is a Baggins precious?” it’s glare turning to confusion as he analysed the threat in front of him

 

“I’m a hobbit from the Shire!”

 

“A hobbit? We’ve eaten Goblins and fishes but we hasn’t tried Hobbitses before!” Gollum snarled excitedly, crawling towards Bilbo who raised his sword higher, its point coming just short of the creature’s throat. “What has it got in its handses?”

 

“A sword! Of Elvish make,” Bilbo replied shakily, thinking that he may be able to talk the creature out of eating him and showing him the way out. He wondered who ‘we’ was meant to refer to, he dearly wished there wasn’t another of these creatures lurking in the shadows but he hadn’t the time to look. He daren’t take his eyes off of it. 

 

Gollum’s manner changed dramatically, his snarl slipping and being replaced with a grotesque smile, “It’s nasty... but it likes riddles, praps it does precious, does it?” The unfamiliarity of the situation had thrown Gollum off-guard, he wasn’t used to Hobbits or his dinner being armed with sharp Elvish weaponry.

 

“Okay... we will have a game of riddles. A-and if I win, you will show me the way out,” Bilbo bargained.

 

“And if we win, we eats it whole!”

 

Figuring that he had little choice, he conceded, “Fair enough.”

 

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

 

Way above the game of riddles, through many layers of rock, was the company of Thorin Oakenshield, unarmed and furious. The goblins shoved them along the rickety wooden walkways, throwing jeering comments in their direction as they revelled in their victory.

 

Thorin shrugged a goblin off which had latched onto his arm, shoving it to the side which earned him a kick in the knee from one of its friends. As the King whirled around to defend himself, the goblin danced out of his reach, cackling madly as the company were forced to crowd closer together, preventing them from hitting back. They were vastly outnumbered and without their weapons they would have to wait for an opportunity to arise for escape, not that Thorin was happy about it.

 

The Dwarf King found himself next to Nori, who whispered furiously in his ear, “Bilbo’s been left behind!”

 

Thorin cursed under his breath as he cast a thought for his burglar, such a soft creature was not meant for the wild. He didn’t know why Gandalf had picked the Halfling, he clearly had no fighting experience, going on all his near death experiences in which Thorin had had to intervene, namely the trolls, wargs and stone giants.

 

And yet he couldn’t help but feel a stab of concern at Nori’s words. In fact, he hadn’t been able to stop worrying about his burglar, he was constantly getting himself in danger, it was a wonder he wasn’t dead already. Thorin hoped, with shock to himself, that Bilbo had managed to get away and make it back to Rivendell. At least he’d be safe there, and Thorin could go back to focussing on the quest rather than his confused feelings for the Halfling.

 

He was snapped out of his thoughts when they were suddenly shoved roughly forward, landing before the largest and ugliest Goblin he’d ever seen. It was several feet taller than the dwarves, and several feet wider- its rolls of skin stretching over a bulging neck and belly. It even made the Elves look pretty Thorin mused.

 

When its foul gaze fell on them, its eyes widened in amusement, “Well, well, well what do we have here? Dwarves, trespassing in _my_ kingdom! What would a company of dwarves be doing so far from their holes, hmm?” leaning forward on his throne of bones to sneer down at them.

 

The dwarves loyally stood silent and said nothing, shielding Thorin from sight in their mass of bodies and fur clothing. The King bowed his head, if they recognised him he and his company would be likely tortured and killed. Thorin had gained quite a reputation over his lifetime with the number of goblins and Orcs he’d killed in defence of Erebor and his people as they travelled to the Blue Mountains.

 

“No? Well if they won’t talk then we’ll make them squawk!” the Goblin King called out to his subjects, “We’ll start with the youngest!” pointing his meaty finger at a horrified Ori.

 

Not willing to let one of his loyal companions suffer for his sake or for the sake of their quest, Thorin pushed his way forward, stepping into clear view of the Goblin who quickly lost all interest in Ori.

 

“Well, if it isn’t Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the mountain,” he mocked with an exaggerated bow. Thorin felt anger bubble inside of him, clenching his fists, if he just had Orcrist in his hands...  “But I forgot, you don’t have a mountain, which makes you no-one really,” he snickered, spit flying at Thorin’s face.

 

“I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head,” he sneered causing Thorin to suppress a frown, he didn’t realise someone had a bounty on him. Although he supposed that with all the battles he’d fought and foul beings he’d killed, he had earned himself a few enemies.

 

Their belongings were brought forward then, their weapons and supplies were laid before the Goblin King who lazily picked through it, revelling in his power over the dwarves, until he came to Thorin’s sword which he dropped instantly as though it had burned him, scrambling back onto his throne.

 

Thorin couldn’t help but feel grimly satisfied as the Goblin cried out, “I know that sword! It is the Goblin Cleaver!” although his smugness was short-lived as the Goblin’s next command rang out, “Kill them! Kill them all!” He guessed it no longer cared about the bounty.

 

The dwarf had just enough time to see a blur of something to his right when he and his company were tackled to the ground, landing badly on his arm. Ignoring the pain, he swung out, feeling his fist connect with flesh and bone which crunched under the force of his blow. He didn’t have time to continue his assault before a blinding white light filled the cavern, and a force unseen flatten him onto his back.

 

Raising his head blearily, his ears ringing, he made out the form of Gandalf stepping through the smoke like a spirit, “Take up arms!” he called, “FIGHT!”

 

The shout was all Thorin needed to snap him out of his stunned state and up onto his feet, his hand grasping the hilt of Orcrist. It felt good to have his sword back in hand, it’s hilt fit into his palm as though he was shaking hands with an old friend. Spinning round, he buried the blade deep in the body of a goblin which had managed to get to his feet, black blood bursting from its body before Thorin retched his sword out to swing at another foe that had gotten too close. He allowed his mind to go blank and his training and experience take over, covering his allies and friends who scrambled for their weapons.

 

Once his company had recovered their weapons and belongings, he made off after Gandalf, cutting and slashing at whoever got in his way. Ducking, he dodged arrows flying over his head, continuing to sprint across the walkway with his shield raised. Ahead of him, he saw Kili pause and let loose a few arrows of his own, Goblin archers falling down dead. Pride filled him as he saw his nephews fight. They would have made their father and uncle, Frerin, proud.

 

Losing himself to the frenzy of battle, he barely noticed the Goblins who fell dead by his sword, their blood spraying onto his face and clothes. He had to keep fighting- their quest could not fail because of an unconceived danger brought about by ill luck. He thought of Smaug, of Erebor and the promise he’d made and found within himself the strength to fight onwards.

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

Bilbo stared in shock as Gollum ran past him, spitting and snarling, “Thief! Baggins!”, completely missing him. Confused, Bilbo stared down at the gold band around his finger-clearly the ring would become more to him than a simple souvenir.

 

He got to his feet, his shaking legs threatening to collapse under him as he made his way through the tunnel- following Gollum towards what he hoped was the way out.

 

As he rounded a corner, he saw Gollum crouching in the middle of a tunnel which connected to another that seemed to be filled by a clear golden light. Daylight! In his excitement, he started forward but stopped when he realised Gollum was still in his way. Bilbo moved forward silently, each footfall carefully placed so as to not disturb a single piece of gravel, considering how to get around the creature.

 

His desperation grew as he saw he heard running coming through the other tunnel. Gollum huddled behind a rock as the dwarves ran past, led by Gandalf. The company! He wanted to call out to them but feared the creature before him would reach him before they did, they were quickly disappearing from sight, leaving Bilbo behind. Angered by all that had happened to him, Bilbo raised his sword and stood over Gollum ready to bury his blade within his skinny back.

 

But as Gollum turned towards him, Bilbo’s anger quickly dissipated, leaving him feeling only pity for the tortured being. The creature’s eyes, once full of madness and rage, were left lost and afraid, staring around him as though searching for a friend. He was instantly reminded of Smaug, every time the dragon had wrecked his furniture, destroyed his pantry or burnt his bedding; it had simply been his nature. He had once believed Smaug was not beyond help, could he consider this creature the same after Smaug had turned into a monster? His sword arm fell, lowering the weapon, No, he was not going to take Gollum’s life- maybe there was some goodness in him yet.

 

He took a few steps back, not noticing where he was stepping and kicking a few stones. Gollum’s eyes filled with rage once more, crouching down to spring towards Bilbo. Before he could, Bilbo ran forward, leaping over Gollum and catching him with his foot as he ran off towards the sunlit entrance, desperate to return to his friends and exit these foul caves.

 

Not looking back, he heard Gollum’s cries ring after him, he was sure that he’d never forget that cry for as long as he lived. Stepping out into the sunlight, he was surprised when he didn’t feel the warmth of the sun’s rays on his skin. And then he remembered he was still wearing the ring, it made him feel slightly cold and distant from the world around him as though he was stretched between two worlds.

 

Bilbo was too afraid to take it off though; he wasn’t sure whether he was being pursued yet. It couldn’t hurt to leave it on until he found the company he thought as he skidded down the hill, the pine needles slipping beneath his feet.

 

Reaching the bottom of the slope, he saw the company gathered in a tight group wildly looking for their lost member. Relief filled him, he was safe! Bilbo was about to take his ring off and reveal himself to the troubled dwarves when he heard Thorin’s voice ring out, “Mister Baggins saw his chance and he took it, we will not be seeing the Halfling again. He is long gone!” The company paused in their search and stared at their leader with something akin to disappointment and sorrow. Although whether that disappointment was because they believed Thorin’s words or whether it was because they were disappointed in their leader’s lack of faith in Bilbo, he did not know.

 

What he did know was that he could not stand and allow the King to question his loyalty. Pulling off the ring and stepping from behind his tree he looked around at the company before calling to them, “No, he isn’t!”

 

Instantly all heads whipped round in his direction, the faces off the dwarves filling with a mixture of relief and shock. Gandalf chuckled in relief at the sight of him, “Bilbo Baggins, I have never been more thrilled to see anyone in my life!”

 

Kili’s face split into a crooked grin, “Bilbo! We’d given you up...”

 

“How on earth did you get past the Goblins?” Fili finished for him.

 

Bilbo froze, his brain scrambling for an excuse as he slipped the ring into his pocket. He wasn’t sure why he felt he needed to keep it a secret, but the thought of them taking it from him filled him with dread. He couldn’t risk letting that happen.

 

Seeing Bilbo was clearly uncomfortable Gandalf intervened, “Well what does it matter, he’s back!”

 

Thorin stepped forward then, “It matters! I want to know... why did you come back?” his voice becoming uncharacteristically soft as he stared up at Bilbo, his eyes filled with question.

 

Bilbo returned his gaze, hazel eyes meeting blue, he no longer felt afraid of what he should or should not say in front of the King, “Look I know you doubt me, I know you always have. And you’re right, I often think of Bag-End, I miss my books and my armchair and my garden. See that’s where I belong, that’s home. And that’s why I came back, because you don’t have one- a home. It was taken from you, but I will help you take it back if I can,” not adding the guilt which spurred him onwards or that he also needed to prevent a war and secure alliances for the dwarves.

 

An eerie silence fell on the company as they processed Bilbo’s words; Thorin in particular stared back at Bilbo as though he was seeing him again for the first time, their eyes locked over the clearing. He knew then that he’d finally gotten through to the dwarf, and that their relationship would change for the better here on out but as he thought back on Bofur’s words, he knew not how it would change, only that he was glad that he would at least have Thorin’s respect.

 

A howl sounded from atop the hill they’d just scrambled down, instantly recognising it as a Warg, Bilbo froze, staring up at the pack of Wargs gathered above them. He barely heard Gandalf urging them to run but he didn’t need to hear it, the sight alone had him running after the dwarves, stumbling over fallen branches and rocks. He didn’t know how many pursued them, only that they were vastly outnumbered again and didn’t stand a chance fighting them.

 

Their path came to an abrupt end, the forest floor falling away to a steep cliff that they had no time to climb down.

 

“Up! Up into the trees, climb!” Gandalf ordered, the wizard scaling the nearest pine with stamina unlike that of an old man.

 

But before Bilbo could make his way up a tree, he was knocked off his feet, the wind knocked out of him as he was forced onto the forest floor, earning him a faceful of pine needles and leaves. He gasped at the sudden pain in his shoulder which had taken the brunt of his fall. He barely had enough time to push himself up into a crouching position before his attacker spun from its leap and turned to finish Bilbo off. Doing the only thing he could think to do, Bilbo pulled out his sword and held it in front of him as the Warg sprang at him, impaling himself on the end of his blade. Bile rose in his throat as he felt the blade cut through flesh and scrape against bone, the Warg quivering and falling dead at his feet.

 

Getting a hold of himself, he wretched his sword out of the beast’s skull and looked round, finding himself alone with the rest of the Warg pack quickly gaining on him.

 

“Bilbo!” Thorin called above him, leaning down from his perch in the tree to reach for the hobbit.

 

Not thinking twice, Bilbo jumped and grabbed Thorin’s hand, allowing the Dwarf to pull him up into the safety of the trees. They scaled the tree together, Thorin always one step ahead but making sure his burglar was pulled up along with him. He’d saved Bilbo just in a nick of time- the Wargs quickly beginning to circle and jump up at the trees, their claws scraping harshly against the bark and teeth snapping at their heels.

 

Out of the frying pan and into the fire indeed Bilbo thought grimly as he clung to the trunk of the tree for dear life, his grip tightening with every shake the Warg’s sent up it. Pine needles fell from the trees and scattered around them, sticking into his hair, not that he could find himself to be concerned how his hair looked at this moment in time.

 

Seeing something red and orange streak past his vision, his first thought was for the Heartstone, but no, he could still feel it securely in his trouser pocket. His concerns for the stone dissipated when the forest floor erupted in flames, the dry needles and leaves quickly spreading the fire, causing the Wargs to back off with frightened and angry howls. Looking across at the next tree, Bilbo saw Gandalf lighting pinecones and tossing them to Fili and Kili below him, who threw the firebombs with amazing accuracy- hitting many Wargs in the eyes or flank, sending them reeling away. That wizard never ceased to surprise him.

 

The dwarves cried out in victory as the enchanted fire spread beneath them, creating a barrier between them and the mounted Warg’s who had caught up with their pack-mates. They growled in frustration, running up and down the wall of fire, looking for a way through. Whilst the Wargs were less of a problem, Bilbo couldn’t share the Dwarves cries of victory, after all, they were sat in trees made of wood with fire licking at their boughs.

 

Through the smoke and flames, an Orc who Bilbo could only assume to be their leader, stepped forward on top of a pile of rocks. His skin was white and scarred from innumerable battles and his face split into a fierce grin as he leant forward, to sneer at the dwarves, atop his white Warg.

 

“No!” Bilbo heard Thorin gasp out above him, not understanding the Dwarf’s horror.

 

Hearing the King cry out, the Orc looked up at them both, laughing, his eyes widening in recognition. He growled out something in black speech, they didn’t understand what he’d said but whatever it was, it couldn’t have been good because his followers erupted in laughter and cheers, making their way forward again- the flames having shifted enough to allow them access once more.

 

“Azog?” Thorin breathed out, more to himself than to anyone else. Bilbo’s blood ran cold, his mind being filled with the memories of Balin’s words. So this was the Orc who had killed Thorin’s grandfather and ultimately passed the title of King on when the Orc had failed to finish his job of wiping out the line of Durin.

 

Smoke cut off Bilbo’s breath and caused him to cough violently, his eyes streaming with tears from the soot. If this carried on, he was going to fall and become a victim to the flames or the Orcs, regardless of whether one of the Warg’s managed to climb the tree. A strong hand gripped his arm again, looking up he saw Thorin’s serious and angry face staring back at him. Bilbo nodded out his thanks, unable to form words through the smoke in his lungs.

 

Suddenly, their tree tipped violently causing the Hobbit to cry out and grip Thorin’s arm in turn tightly, the Wargs having succeeded in uprooting the tree they were currently perched on. As their tree fell into another, they were forced to jump onto the next one, forcing Thorin to let go of Bilbo’s arm so that they could secure themselves on a branch. What little breath he had left was forced out of him as he grabbed onto the bough of the tree, finding himself next to a frightened Dori who pulled the hobbit securely onto his branch. He had no time to relax as this pine fell as well, forcing them all to jump to the last tree on the cliff. They now had nowhere to go!  

 

His heart beat such a frantic rhythm he thought it might burst from his chest. The dwarves around him were equally frightened; some putting out prayers to Mahal and whoever in the Valar may listen. Ori was managing to shoot a few stones at their attackers using his slingshot but his pouch quickly ran dry, leaving them defenceless. Their final prayers were cut off when their last tree also fell, hanging them off the side of the cliff. This is it Bilbo thought sadly, as his feet dangled above the darkness below, he was going to die in a likely painful and brutal way, so far away from home but surrounded by his friends. At least he wasn’t alone.

 

Thorin was lying next to him- his body sprawled across the trunk as the King raised his head to stare through the faze, created by the heat and fire, at his enemy. No... Bilbo thought weakly as the King slowly got to his feet, the Dwarf was going to die if he ran in there, he couldn’t fight all those Orcs on his own, even if he had the company at his back, they’d be slaughtered in a heartbeat.

 

But the King didn’t stop, stepping off the tree and back onto solid ground, he ignored the cries of his kin who were close to falling- unable to follow their leader one last time. Bilbo sent out a frantic plea to Yavanna to secure Thorin’s safety as the Dwaf picked up a fast pace, charging towards the pale Orc, his sword and shield raised. But any hope he had died when Azog’s Warg leapt in the air, smacking Thorin to the ground, the Dwarf King landing on his back as Azog turned his steed to run at him again, his mace connecting with Thorin’s chest, sending him to the ground again with a sickening thud.

 

The dwarves became frantic- Balin cried out for his King and friend, helpless as he watched the Dwarf he’d followed into countless battles, fall before him. Dwalin attempted to run after him but ended up losing his grip even more and dangling dangerously from the tree behind Bilbo.

 

From Bilbo’s position, he could hear Thorin’s cries of pain as the Warg closed its maw around the dwarf’s chest. It stabbed at his very chest, filling him with a sense of determination; he couldn’t watch the King die- the memory of Thorin’s lifeless form in his dream filled his mind. He didn’t know when Thorin’s life had become so important to him, but he would not let him die, Thorin would not be the one to lose his life in Galadriel’s prophecy. With a deep breath, he pushed himself to stand as Thorin had done, unsheathing his sword and ignoring the heat threatening to blister his skin. It was his fault Thorin was here dying instead of safe in his home and Bilbo would be damned if this dwarf died here because of him!

 

Thorin was lying on his back, the Orcs gathered around him, sneering down and laughing at the once strong Dwarf King who weakly reached for Orcrist. A singular Orc made his way towards the Dwarf, his ugly blade glinting in the fire as he prepared to behead the King for his master. They didn’t notice Bilbo running towards them, his footfalls muffled against the cracking of the flames and the Orc’s laughter. They didn’t see him until he’d tackled the executioner to the ground, sharp pieces of armour stabbing into Bilbo’s unprotected flesh as they rolled across the ground. Bilbo managed to get his sword through the Orc’s chest, stabbing again and again, throwing the body off of him as he threw himself between his King and Azog. He no longer felt sick when he felt the blood of his opponent splatter onto him nor when he felt the blade of his sword rip through tender flesh, his mind was focussed on a singular objective- to protect Thorin.

 

Thorin had fallen still behind him but he couldn’t focus on that. Thorin had to be alive... his journey did not end here. Bilbo swung his sword in front of him, threatening the Orcs around him to stay away. However, Azog continued to advance on him, his once victorious face now fixed on Bilbo’s, intent on killing the being who had dared to steal his prize. Fear began to build in him again, realising that he was alone and facing a great number of now livid Orcs and Wargs.

 

No, he was not alone- the company now came charging in with fierce battle cries having freed themselves from their precarious position in the tree. Bilbo watched as Gloin went sailing past him, slashing at a Warg who had advanced on Bilbo’s left. He snapped himself out of his shock and slashed forwards, and cutting, to his surprise, the face of Azog’s Warg. She howled in pain as blood ran through her white fur, hot droplets landing on Bilbo’s face when she swung round to bite at him. He fell back out of her reach, falling next to Thorin’s limp form. Azog growled out a command to his mount, causing her to carefully advance on Bilbo, her paws inching closer and closer to the frightened Hobbit. The company hadn’t noticed Bilbo’s predicament, they were more occupied with saving themselves. Despite their enthusiasm, they were still outnumbered.

 

Bilbo closed his eyes, waiting for his death that was sure to come. Instead a shrill cry, unlike that of any beast Bilbo had ever heard sounded out across the scene. Opening his eyes, his heart was filled with renewed hope. The Eagles flew through the smoke, almost like spectres, their talons lifting Orcs and Warg’s off the ground and dropping them off the cliff to their death.

 

Azog and his Warg shied away with howls of frustration as an Eagle swooped in, gently enclosing Thorin and his sword in its talons, lifting him into the air. Bilbo just had time to notice Thorin’s shield had been left behind when he too was lifted into the air, and dropped onto the back of an Eagle. The air in his lungs gushed out of him as he landed, clinging desperately to the slick feathers beneath his hands.

 

Just as the Eagles saved the last of the dwarves and Gandalf, Bilbo heard Azog’s cry of anger ring out into the night, he was certain that this would not be the last time he saw the pale Orc. But for now they were safe, relief washing through his body as he clung to the Eagle’s back, the cool night air blowing the curls from his forehead.

 

The Eagle’s wings flapped a steady, powerful rhythm, carrying them into the night away from the danger below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! That chapter was 5k words?! Never planned to make it that long, it just sort of happened. And we've reached chapter 10! Thank you all who have stuck with me and all those hopping along for the journey!  
> I merged the events of the book and the film here to make things more interesting and I will be doing the same in the next chapter so we can have an actual chat with the Eagles who can talk despite them being a bit shy in the movies.
> 
> Next Chapter: Friday! Bilbo asks the Eagles for help and Thorin and Bilbo have an actual conversation without wanting to kill each other
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	11. The Windlord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin bond and Bilbo talks to the Lord of the Eagles

As dawn broke over the horizon, sunlight warmed Bilbo’s back and glinted off his mucky blonde curls. Sleepily, he gazed around at the Eagles flying on either side of them, the light causing their feathers to shine like polished bronze. On his right, Gandalf was sat comfortably on the Eagle’s back, looking far more at home than the dwarves surrounding them who were battle-weary and faces pale as they avoided looking down at the ground miles beneath them.

 

With a stiff neck, he turned to his left, finally being able to see Thorin clutched in the Eagle’s claws. Anxiety clutched at his chest as he noted that Thorin had not woken, he was still limp, his arm hanging loosely and face slack. Bilbo sat up straighter as he looked for any sign of life, reassuring him slightly when he saw the King’s face still had colour within it.

 

“Thorin!” Fili called to him from his Eagle, Kili sitting behind him, their faces ashen as they gazed at their Uncle.

 

Thorin didn’t respond, he was too far gone in the depths of unconsciousness to reply, his wounds having taken a heavy toll on his body. Bilbo hoped that they were nearing their destination soon, he had little idea how long they’d been flying. They’d flown throughout the night and after Bilbo had gotten over his initial shock and fear, he’d begun to doze on the Eagle’s back, not daring to fully go to sleep although he knew the Eagle would not let him fall. If Thorin didn’t get help soon, Bilbo wasn’t sure he was going to make it. Eru knows what wounds are hidden beneath that armour. The thought of it sent fear jolting up Bilbo’s spine. But he reminded himself that whilst he had seen Thorin fall, he hadn’t seen the Dwarf fall here- he’d seen him on a battlefield, surrounded by his kin, allies and foes- all dead, all cold. He still had a chance to save him, Thorin could not fall like this. He couldn’t.

 

Bilbo clung to that thought as the Eagle’s began to descend, carrying them to a series of large rocky outcrops where he assumed they’d be landing. His Eagle swooped between the stones with the slightest tilt of his wings, carrying them further in before landing on a large ledge. The Eagle crouched to allow Bilbo to slide off his back, staggering as his feet met stone- his legs shook with exhaustion but managed to hold him as he stepped back from his saviour.

 

“Thank you,” he told the Eagle who regarded him with his large yellow eyes before dipping his head and swooping off to the perch on the next pillar of rock, watching as his nest-brothers brought the rest of the company forward.

 

Stunned by his surroundings, Bilbo gazed around him. In amongst the rocks were perches where the Eagles roosted, great shelves of rock carved out for their giant hosts. This must be their eyrie Bilbo guessed as he watched a pair of Eagles perched above him, sharpening their beaks on the rock and cleaning their feathers with meticulous care.

 

His observations were cut off when Thorin was placed on the rock-shelf, his body falling limp against the stone. Bilbo started forward to check on the dwarf but was cut off by Gandalf who whispered, “Thorin?” as he crouched down next to the battered King.

 

Bilbo watched as Gandalf placed a hand above Thorin’s face, running it over the dwarf’s body and murmuring words beneath his breath, his eyes closed and brow furrowed in concentration. Come on Thorin, Bilbo urged him in his mind, wake up. The rest of the company now gathered nervously around them, their faces weary with exhaustion and worry- all silently praying that their King would stir.

 

He breathed out a deep sigh of relief he didn’t realise he’d been holding when he saw Thorin open his eyes, blearily blinking as he made sense of his surroundings, “The Halfling?” he heard Thorin breath out causing him to start, he hadn’t expected the King to ask for him but he couldn’t hold back the smile which spread across his face when the dwarf’s eyes met his.

 

“It’s alright,” Gandalf reassured Thorin as he struggled to his feet, clinging to the wizard’s arm for support, “Bilbo is here, he’s quite safe!”

 

Thorin took an unsteady step towards Bilbo, his fellow dwarves moving forward, ready to aid their King should he fall again. Bilbo, in his almost giddy happiness and relief, did not notice that Thorin was not smiling, and was in fact glaring at the Hobbit as though smiling was a crime.

 

“You! What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed!” Bilbo’s smile faltered and fell, his cheer being replaced with confusion as the dwarf continued to advance on him. He threw a desperate look at the other dwarves who looked equally confused. “Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us?” Bilbo ducked his head at his words, he’d thought that... no, he supposed that Thorin did not care for Hobbits, or maybe it was just him, too fat and useless to be of any value.

 

His exhaustion and low self-esteem feeding his irrational thoughts and leaving him completely unprepared for Thorin’s next words, “I have never been so wrong in all my life!” he breathed out, enveloping the gaping Hobbit in a warm and tight hug. It took him a moment to register that yes, he was indeed receiving a hug off of the normally stoic Thorin Oakenshield, before he was able to return the gesture, his small arms barely reaching around the dwarf’s barrel chest. Thorin’s hair tickled his nose and cheeks not that he could find himself to care, he was hugging Thorin Oakenshield! 

 

And if the hug lasted a little longer than what would be considered normal, no-one remarked on that fact as the two moved out of each other’s arms, almost reluctant to let go of the warmth and security they offered.

 

“I am sorry I doubted you,” Thorin said to Bilbo guiltily, his eyes never leaving the Hobbit’s.

 

“No, no I would have doubted me too,” Bilbo assured him, he still did he almost added. “I’m not a hero, or a warrior or even a Burglar,” he said with a grin, directing his final words at Gandalf who chuckled.

 

As Bilbo looked back at the King, he noticed that Thorin’s face had actually pulled itself into a smile! He almost did a double take, Thorin- I’m too majestic for happy nonsense- Oakenshield was actually smiling! And at him! The sight of it warmed Bilbo to his core, his tired limbs quickly forgotten as he returned the smile that lighted up his features. As a result, he completely missed the money being exchanged around him, a large amount seeming to be accumulated by Bofur who was now grinning nearly as widely as Thorin.

 

“My Lord will see you now,” the Eagle behind him called, the company turning to follow as he led them along a path carved in the rock towards the tallest of the outcrops.

 

Thorin stayed close to Bilbo, he noticed, he was close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of him and to hear the King’s breaths coming laboured as he exerted himself to keep up with his company. Bilbo kept throwing him wary glances, being ready in a heartbeat should Thorin lose his footing.  

 

However, Thorin managed to stay on his feet as they reached the top of the outcrop and were led to stand in front of the largest Great Eagle Bilbo had seen thus far. He was easily a head taller than his nest-mates and his feathers shone with a glossiness that dulled other birds in comparison. Bilbo stared wide-eyed up at him and realised with shock that the Eagle was staring straight at him, his piercing yellow eyes trained on him with what Bilbo hoped was curiosity and not hunger. He’d had enough of large animals trying to eat him for a lifetime.

 

The Lord’s gaze was broken when Gandalf stepped forward, “Greetings Gwaihir the Windlord! Allow me to convey the gratitude of my companions in having saved our lives. May your wings never lose their strength to carry you where the sun sails and the moon walks,” he finished with a low bow, gesturing with a wave of his hand for the company to do the same.

 

“Well met Mithrandir, may your wisdom never fade. I welcome you and your companions to my eyrie. You may stay here and rest for today, tomorrow we will bear you on your way but we shall not land you where the men live. They will shoot at us with their great bows of Yew, for they would think we were after their sheep.”

 

“Very well,” Gandalf replied, “We will be most grateful at however far you can take us. In the meantime, my companions are incredibly weary and famished with hunger.” Bilbo’s stomach growled in agreement, in all the excitement he’d barely noticed that he’d gone an entire day without eating.

 

“Easily remedied, my Eagles shall hunt for you,” Gwaihir finished, nodding to two Eagles perched nearby who flew off, disappearing down the gaps between the mountains.

 

The company spluttered out their thanks, bowing repeatedly as they exited Gwaihir’s outcrop, but Bilbo stayed behind, wishing to speak to the Lord of the Eagles alone... there were many matters he needed to discuss and he did not know when he’d have another moment alone.

 

“Bilbo?” Thorin called to him, realising that his burglar was not following him.

 

Bilbo was strangely touched that the King had waited for him and was tempted to follow, “I’ll be down in a minute... just want to do some exploring up here, I shan’t be long,” he reassured the dwarf, the lie coming horribly easy to him. Thorin looked as though he was about to protest but then Oin came fussing over his King and wanting to tend to his wounds, Thorin threw Bilbo a final pleading glance before he was ushered away.

 

He felt a stab of guilt at the lie, but he reminded himself that if he was to continue on this quest, he was going to have to keep on lying so he may as well get used to it.

 

Turning back to Gwaihir, he saw the Eagle watching him intensely, clearing his throat, he stepped closer to him, “Thank you for your hospitality Lord Gwaihir. If I may, I have some matters of importance I wish to discuss with you...”

 

“You wish to ask whether I will help you in the war to come.” Gwaihir finished for him, Bilbo’s eyes widening in astonishment.

 

“How did you know?” he almost whispered, feeling as Kili had done all that time ago.

 

“You are not the only one who is visited by the Valar, Bilbo Drakunfren. Although I have not been visited by Lord Irmo in many an age, my Lord Manwë keeps me well informed of the goings on in Middle Earth and beyond. Despite the fact Mithrandir called for me, the Istari need not have troubled himself, I had already been asked by my Lord to save you from Azog the Defiler,” his voice radiating power as he blinked down at a quivering Bilbo.

 

Why did everyone know the meaning of his title except him? It was incredibly frustrating. He knew that Gandalf would know but it wasn’t as though he could just ask him out of the blue and expect no questions about his sudden curiosity.

 

“So it doesn’t bother you that I... well...”

 

“Raised the fire breathing drake that has taken hundreds of lives and earned himself the title of Smaug the Terrible for his foul deeds? No Halfling, it does not. You have a gentle soul, child of the west, if more beings in Middle Earth cared for life as you did, there would be far less evil tainting these lands. You are not to blame.”

 

“Then you must know, if you do not help us in this war, Middle Earth will be greatly endangered, the evil _will_ spread should Erebor fall to the Orcs and Goblins,” his voice finding surety.

 

“Peace Drakunfren, should you have need of my help I will come,” Gwaihir’s voice turning gentle.

 

“Thank you, Lord Gwaihir, for your kind words and help,” Bilbo replied, bowing low as he turned to return to his companions. That had gone far better than expected he conceded.

 

“Do not lose your kind soul Bilbo, it is a rare one indeed,” the Lord of the Eagles finished, bowing his head and taking off to attend to the matters of his kingdom.

 

Bilbo watched as Gwaihir flew out of sight, disappearing after a few powerful strokes of his wings, putting out a silent thanks to Manwë for his involvement in their rescue and persuading the Eagles to help him. Now he had the Eagle's allegiance, it was just a matter of the Elves and Men. He still had no idea how he was supposed to win Thranduil over, he couldn’t count on the Valar helping him at every turn.

 

His thoughts were interrupted as his stomach groaned in displeasure. Rubbing his stomach, he made his way down the path, reuniting himself with the company. The dwarves were busy preparing the rabbits and hares the Eagles had brought for them, enthusiastic to finally have some meat for the first time in days. Gloin and Bofur were busy skinning them whilst Bombur roasted a couple of already prepared rabbits on a spit over the fire. The smell made Bilbo’s mouth water.

 

Looking round, he wasn’t sure where he should help until his gaze fell upon a disgruntled Oin and a pouting Thorin. The King looked as though he was trying to shake the healer off, moving away every time Oin attempted to pull his armour away from Thorin’s wounds to assess what damage still lay under all those layers.

 

Bilbo made his way over to them, figuring he could put his diplomatic skills and newfound friendship with Thorin to the test.

 

“I’ve told you Oin, I’m perfectly alright. Thank you for your concern,” Thorin grumbled irritably at the exasperated healer.

 

Seeing Bilbo coming over, Oin thrust a wet rag in his hands, “You try and get through to him lad, he won’ let me see to his wounds. I’m too tired to argue with him anymore,” Oin pleaded with him wearily, moving off to sit with Balin and Gandalf who were smoking their pipes, watching the dwarves in their preparations.

 

Sighing, Bilbo sat himself down by the stubborn King who was regarding him cautiously. “Don’t worry I’m not going to jump you,” Bilbo chuckled, throwing the rag into the basin of water, freezing when he realised what his words sounded like, “That is to say sire... erm... I mean I won’t force my help upon you... that is,” stumbling over his words in an effort to explain himself.

 

Thorin chuckled at Bilbo’s floundering, the noise coming deep from within his throat, “Fear not Master Baggins, you could not force your help upon me, even if you were, as you say, to ‘jump me’.”

 

Bilbo flushed with embarrassment but Thorin just continued to smirk at him, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement, “Bilbo,” was all he thought to say.

 

“Sorry?” Thorin replied, somewhat confused.

 

“I-It’s Bilbo... not of that ‘Mister’ business,” he answered weakly, only just realising how close they were sat.

 

“Bilbo,” Thorin agreed, savouring the word in his mouth, “Was that your first kill?” he asked suddenly, shocking said Hobbit at the sudden change in topic.

 

“Y-yes it was.”

 

“And how do you feel about that?” Thorin’s eyes turning immeasurably soft as he gazed down at his companion.

 

“Well... I-It was all a bit of a blur really, it happened so fast...” he trailed off, realising in fact that his deed was indeed bothering him, more than he’d known.

 

Smiling gently, Thorin leaned forward, “Bilbo, I’m not asking you what happened, how did you feel when it did happen, how do you feel now?”

 

“At the time I felt kind of sick, the way my sword just cut through that Warg’s skull... but I wasn’t even bothered when I killed that Orc which I guess bothers me now, a life is a life, no matter what the creature is. But at the time I didn’t have a choice... I couldn’t just stand by and let you die,” Bilbo admitted, it felt sort of relieving to speak it out loud.

 

“I felt the same when I first killed,” Thorin responded solemnly.

 

“You did?” Bilbo was surprised, having seen Thorin fight, he’d just assumed it had always come naturally to him.

 

“Yes... I was on patrol across the outer borders of Erebor when we were ambushed by a group of Orcs. I can still remember the Orc I killed that day, defending my kin. I was only 26, barely old enough to be allowed out anyway and for a long time the knowledge I had taken a life haunted me. But I realised, when in battle, you have to focus on something, anything, a person, place... a promise, something which gives your action purpose. When you saved me, you were focussed on saving my life which is why you felt nothing. It is perfectly normal to feel as you do Bilbo,” he reassured the hobbit.

 

Bilbo wearily smiled back, “Thank you,” part of him still not getting over the fact the King was opening up and talking to him without scowling.

 

“No Bilbo, it is I who must thank you, for my life. I do not believe I can ever repay that debt, though I shall try,” Thorin swore.

 

Bilbo snorted at Thorin’s seriousness, “You’ve saved me plenty of times.”

 

“Aye, that I have,” he agreed, “But the odds were always in my favour when I saved you. I have the advantage of experience and training which you lack. When you threw yourself in front of me to protect me against my enemy, you did so knowing you would likely die and yet you tried to save me anyway. Even some of the most trained warriors would not stand against Azog as you did.”

 

“I-I was just doing what I could...”

 

“Exactly,” Thorin murmured and Bilbo nearly jumped back when he realised how close their faces were, he could feel Thorin’s warm breath across his face, smell the acrid smoke on the dwarf’s coat. He glanced down at Thorin’s lips and quickly moved them back to his eyes, noticing them darken considerably. He shouldn’t do this- couldn’t do this... but he wanted to...

 

“Dinner’s ready!” Bombur called, causing Bilbo and Thorin to jump back from each other as though they’d been caught doing something scandalous.

 

Clearing his throat, Bilbo accepted the bowl of cooked rabbit from a smirking Bombur, wincing as it pressed against the cuts on his hands. All the climbing and fighting had likely reopened the cuts despite the bandages still tight across them.

 

“Are your hands still hurt?” Thorin asked worriedly, reaching for them, “Let me look at them.”

 

Bilbo moved his hands out of Thorin’s reach, “How about, after dinner, I’ll let you tend to my hands if you’ll allow me to assess those wounds of yours, hm?,” he bargained.

 

The King frowned slightly but then chuckled, suppressing a wince as his chest heaved with the force of it. “You drive a hard bargain Master Burglar. Are you as much a healer as you are a barterer?”

 

“I’ve dealt with many wounds in the past. Not war wounds mind you, but cuts and burns from cooking and gardening and really, how different can they be?” Bilbo replied with amusement.

 

“How different indeed,” Thorin smirked, but not mockingly, “Alright then, after dinner just to keep Oin off my back.”

 

“Fair enough,” Bilbo agreed, tucking into his roasted rabbit with fervour. It was dry and unseasoned but he didn’t care, it was food! He’d even eat Lobelia’s rock cakes right now and they tasted like they had actual stone in, but then again, taking into account his poor relations with her, they probably did.

 

They ate in a companionable silence, watching the other dwarves who were far too exhausted to chat as readily as they used to, the events of the last two days finally catching up with them all. Bilbo noticed that Thorin ate with deliberate slowness, however he wasn’t sure whether that was because his wounds were paining him or whether he was just reluctant to have Bilbo tend to them.

 

When they finished, Bilbo set their bowls aside and helped Thorin out of his coat, laying the great heavy thing to one side. The King guided Bilbo in removing the clasps holding his armour before he could move to his undershirts. Thorin’s stiff shoulders prevented him from lifting his arms very high and Bilbo had to twist and manoeuvre his many layers over his torso before finally reaching the broad expanse of Thorin’s chest.

 

Bilbo’s brain stuttered to a halt as he regarded the dwarf in front of him, most notably his well muscled torso. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea... Bilbo thought grimly before shaking those thoughts out of his head and focussing on the wounds rather than the dark hair that curled across his chest, it looked soft...

 

He quickly cleared his throat, and his mind, as he assessed the damaged done by the Warg and Orc mace. Darkening bruises raked the entirety of Thorin’s right side where the Warg had shook him, the skin having torn in a couple of places but was otherwise intact, his armour and layers having saved him from the worst of her sharp teeth. They were oozing blood slightly, having reopened with the movement of Thorin’s undressing.

 

The dwarf watched him intensely as he dipped the cloth into the basin, wringing it out before washing the blood from Thorin’s chest, it having caked into his chest hair and run down his sides, so that he could see whether there were any other wounds he needed to be concerned about. Thorin winced at the cold touch but did not flinch away, allowing Bilbo to continue to wash him.

 

Tentatively, Bilbo returned the bloody rag to the basin and picked up a needle and thread from Oin’s pack, “Those cuts are going to need stitches,” he told the dwarf, meeting his gaze. Thorin just nodded at him, shifting his arm to allow Bilbo access to his side. “This will hurt,” Bilbo warned, poised with his needle above Thorin’s skin.

 

“Don’t worry Master Baggins, I have had worse, trust me,” Thorin assured him.

 

And Bilbo believed him as he looked at the sheer number of scars which decorated his chest, he didn’t want to even think about what manner of weapons caused them. He noticed for the first time that Thorin had runes tattooed around the top of his arm, he been so focussed on his chest that he hadn’t properly looked the dwarf’s arms.

 

To distract himself and Thorin he asked, “What do those runes say? If you don’t mind me asking,” he added sheepishly.

 

Despite the question, Thorin’s fingers still clenched slightly when Bilbo pushed the needle into his skin. He was silent for a moment and Bilbo wondered whether he’d overstepped a boundary. Before he could apologise and take back his words however, Thorin answered him.

 

“They are Khuzdul runes,” his voice dipping low, “I had them done after I lost-... after the battle of Azanulbizar. It is a promise.”

 

“A promise?” Bilbo asked, curious but somewhat confused.

 

“Yes, a promise to repay the lifedebts owed by me in that battle, by reclaiming Erebor and ridding the world of the foul beast which took our home from us. This quest is my people’s last chance of returning to life as we’ve known it.”

 

Bilbo’s stomach clenched, looking from his work to meet the King’s eyes, a blue fire burning inside of them. He kept his thoughts away from Smaug as he finished the stitches, breaking off their eye contact and the thread. Despite all that the dragon had done, he could not bear the thought of him dying when he'd only just learnt he was still alive. Saying no more, he took out a tub of paste which he proceeded to rub along the cuts, the dwarf relaxing into Bilbo’s touch as it soothed his skin.

 

He covered the wounds with a square piece of gauze before awkwardly wrapping bandages around Thorin’s chest to hold them in place. As he passed the roll from one side to the next, he was practically hugging the dwarf, fully aware of how close their faces were again, feeling his hot breath on his ear and causing him to suppress a shiver at the tingles it sent along his spine.  

 

Finishing his work, Bilbo helped Thorin get his clothes that weren’t bloodstained or torn, back over his body, almost regretfully.

 

“Your turn,” Thorin murmured, reaching for Bilbo’s hands. Sighing, Bilbo let the dwarf gently take his hands, unwrapping the dirty bandages pulled across them with incredible care.

 

The cuts on his hands had indeed opened up again, the scabs having broken under the strain Bilbo had put his hands under from clinging to mountains to climbing up trees.

 

As Thorin cleaned the cuts with a fresh rag he asked, “Why did you forgive me? I treated you so badly... If it’s because of my past then-”

 

Bilbo cut off whatever irrational thought the dwarf was brewing, “No, no it wasn’t because of all, well, _that_. It’s simply because despite all your titles and past troubles, in one sense you’re the same as everybody else. We cannot damn everyone who makes simple mistakes, especially after they seek forgiveness, if we did that then we wouldn’t have any friends or family. We’d all be alone,” he finished softly.

 

Thorin paused in his cleaning to look up at Bilbo, his grip tightening on his hands but not painfully, “Your kindness never ceases to amaze me Bilbo, thank you,” his voice lowering so that only the two of them could hear, before he turned his attention back to Bilbo’s hands.

 

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

As Bilbo rolled over in his bed roll that night and looked over at the dwarf sleeping close by, Thorin having decided to sleep close to his burglar, he realised two things- The first that he was falling for Thorin, both of them unable to prevent their developing feelings for one another. And the second being that he was a fool indeed if he thought this would have a happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there's a lot of debate who the actual Lord of the Eagles is in the book but for the sake of making this flow and to appreciate the awesomeness that is Gwaihir, I decided to make it him. As you can probably tell, I absolutely love the Eagles, both from the books and the films
> 
> This is the official start of Thilbo here I guess, their relationship will continue to grow here on out, but I cannot guarantee it will be an easy road :P But I will say to reassure you all, there is an eventual happy ending well... bittersweet I guess, we still have that prophecy to fulfill
> 
> Next Chapter: Sunday! We experience a level of fluff and angst never before seen in this fic, Bilbo and Thorin are just too adorable and dorky for me to contain it! Bilbo really just needs a hug, he's struggling bless him. 
> 
> I hope you're all enjoying this so far, if so, do let me know :) I love reading your comments!
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	12. Inner Conflict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is conflicted over his feelings for Thorin and the events of the past few weeks start to catch up with him
> 
>  
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: very minor self-harm (this will not be a continual theme/occurrence)

_Clouds darkened the sky, rain pouring down on Bilbo’s face as he ran down the hill, tripping and tumbling down the gravely slope. He stumbled to his feet. He had to stop them before it was too late. Reaching the bottom of the hill, he cried out, “STOP!” but they couldn’t hear him, or they simply didn’t listen._

_Smaug roared as Thorin cut his snout, drawing blood with a swing of sword. The dragon countered with a slash of his claws, sending the dwarf flying onto his back with a heavy thud causing him to lose his grip on his sword. Thorin rolled as Smaug leapt towards him, attempting to bite him and end the fight but he missed and the King managed to take up his sword once more, spinning to slash down on Smaug’s exposed neck._

_“NO!” Bilbo screamed, throwing himself between the pair, preventing Thorin from dealing a fatal blow and Smaug from sending a jet of flame at the dwarf. He could not let them kill each other!_

_They both suddenly lost interest in the fight and began to advance on Bilbo who stumbled back, confusion and exhaustion weighing heavy on his limbs._

_Smaug looked as he remembered him from the day he left, “You left me, you abandoned me to the wild!” he growled._

_“No! I tried to help you...”_

_“The blood of my people is on your hands!” Thorin added, his eyes empty._

_“I didn’t know what he was going to do!” Bilbo pleaded._

_Smaug grinned wickedly “You’re just like me.”_

_“No, no I’m...”_

_“Bilbo, what have you done?” Thorin’s face turned hard._

_“I don’t know!” Bilbo cried, collapsing to his knees and bending his head over them so he did not have to look at Smaug or Thorin anymore. He couldn’t bear it._

_What had he done?_

_He clutched at his hair, sobbing out his pleas for forgiveness. But then he realised he couldn’t feel the rain anymore, silence had descended around him. Lifting his head, he gazed around at the shifted scene._

_He was crouched in a meadow, wildflowers surrounding him, the warm sun drying the tears on his cheeks. A woman walked out the trees towards him. Her hair rippled in golden waves down her back and was crowned with a circlet of ivy, its leaves contrasting green against her hair. She wore a white robe and, with the sun behind her, it made her glow with a hazy aura._

_Reaching the shaken hobbit, she kneeled before him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and forcing him to meet her green eyes. At this proximity, Bilbo could see flecks of gold in her iris, matching her hair._

_“It was but a dream my child,” she told him softly, “And it is time for you to wake up.”_

_“But I want to stay here,” he pleaded, it was so peaceful here, so calm compared to what lay ahead of him._

_“And one day you shall return here, but first you must follow your heart and your path onwards,” she smiled patiently, letting go of him to stand as the scene faded around him._

_Don’t go he wanted to say, but the darkness was already closing around him, sending him back to where he belonged._

He blinked open his eyes, frowning as he processed what he’d just experienced. He could feel his locks clinging to his brow from cold sweat and his eyes felt puffy from crying.

“Bilbo!” he heard someone breathe out in relief next to him. Craning his neck, he could see Thorin crouching over him, worry clouding his expression. “You were having a nightmare,” he added, “I couldn’t get you to wake up.”

 

“M’okay,” he croaked, pulling himself into a sitting position as he looked around him. It was the middle of the night, all the other dwarves were asleep- for once no-one had needed to keep watch with the Eagles protecting them

 

“Do you need some water?” Thorin asked.

 

Bilbo just nodded, unable to form the words as he came back to himself. He wasn’t sure whether that had been a dream or a vision or a mixture of both. Whatever it was, it left him deeply confused and worried. Embarrassment flooded through him when he realised that this wasn’t the first time Thorin had found him like this, but at least he hadn’t kicked him.

 

He accepted the offered water-skin and gulped down mouthfuls of water, his throat felt incredibly dry and sore as though he’d been screaming. Remembering what Thorin had said, he supposed he must have been and woken the poor dwarf up. The King needed his rest more than anyone right now.

 

“I’m sorry for waking you,” Bilbo apologised as he handing back the water-skin which Thorin placed back on his bedroll.

 

“No, don’t apologise, I kept waking up anyway. I couldn’t get comfortable,” Thorin responded softly.

 

“Are your wounds hurting you?” Bilbo asked concerned.

 

“A little,” Thorin admitted. Bilbo knew Thorin would not dare admit that in front of any of his kin, but Bilbo was not one of his subjects, he didn’t need to be strong for him. “But I can feel the stitches have stayed in at least. I don’t think they’d dare come out after you practically butchered my skin getting them in,” he added with amusement.

 

Bilbo snorted, “I hardly butchered you. They just needed some persuading,” he responded causing Thorin to give out a small laugh. It lightened Bilbo’s heart to hear it, his dreams becoming forgotten in favour of sharing this moment with Thorin.

 

Thorin continued to smile at him, “Do you think you’d be able to get back to sleep?”

 

Bilbo nodded but the added, “I think so,” he was still feeling very physically as well as emotionally drained at the moment; perhaps some proper sleep would help clear his head. But then a harsh breeze gushed across the mountainside, causing the hobbit to shiver. Around him, the dwarves unconsciously moved closer to each other, seeking each other’s warmth.

 

Thorin’s smile slipped, “The night is looking to be a cold one...” he observed and Bilbo looked at him, waiting for the now flustered dwarf to continue, “I-I don’t know how it is in your culture... but it’s perfectly normal among dwarves to share warmth on nights such as these with their kin. And after you saved me and helped us all, I would consider you among my kin Bilbo, I-if that’s what you wanted,” he added sheepishly, dancing around the question.

 

The hobbit’s heart swelled at Thorin’s words, he’d not really had a family after his parents died, being left with Drogo and the Sackville-Bagginses but then the Sackville’s didn’t really count and Drogo had been busy the past few years settling down with Primula- they’d married a few years ago, wishing to start a family but had had difficulty conceiving. He’d found company in Smaug for a brief period of time before losing him too.

 

Despite his loneliness, he was torn, he knew if he accepted Thorin’s offer it could lead to a few outcomes that could leave them both hurt. He thought on the woman’s words, ‘ _follow your heart’_ \- is this what she meant... or something else entirely? Regardless, he knew it would be great insult to Thorin and his company is he refused their kinship and, feeling so emotionally vulnerable after his nightmare, he decided to accept the King’s offer, feeling the need for some contact to get him through the night.

 

“I would be honoured,” Bilbo answered honestly, giving Thorin a weak smile, the King’s own beaming. It was quite common amongst hobbits to do the same after all, especially during the winter. Bilbo had been sharing a bed with both his parents during the Fell Winter when they’d died- waking up in the morning to find their cold bodies tangled together in a final embrace. The memory only served to lower his mood and leave him thoroughly exhausted as Thorin moved his bedroll closer.

 

There was a moment of awkwardness as neither of them knew how to proceed, should they lie back to back or with Thorin’s front to Bilbo’s back or vice versa? Or should they face each other? Where should they put their arms? Their eyes met and they burst out laughing at their awkwardness, Bilbo waving a hand to shush the dwarf in case any of their comrades should wake.

 

Taking the lead, after their laughter had died down, Thorin lay on his uninjured side and lifted up the blanket in offering to Bilbo, cocking one eyebrow in question, amusement dancing in his eyes.

 

Rolling his eyes, Bilbo scooted down next to dwarf and decided to face him, the warmth of their bodies becoming trapped between them. Thorin threw him a wry grin before slinging an arm over Bilbo’s waist and pulling him to his chest so that Bilbo’s head was tucked under his chin. The hobbit stiffened initially, unsure of the intimacy before relaxing into Thorin’s hold. He felt incredibly safe and secure as well as incredibly warm, the chill of the night barely reaching him.

 

He shouldn’t be doing this... if Thorin knew his part in the dwarves’ tragedies... but that thought was cut off when he felt the King relax around him, slowly slipping off into sleep, his deep breaths ruffling the hobbit’s curls. Bilbo felt a deep connection to the dwarf then, something which spanned more than their lifetimes. He didn’t know what it was but he felt loath to break it, as though to break it would break him in turn as well as Thorin.  

 

Whatever it was, it could wait until the morning- his mind was too tired to make sense of what he was doing or feeling. He slipped off into a dreamless sleep, knowing his dwarf would be there when he woke.

 

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

 

They were roused by the Eagles as dawn began to filter in through the rocks once more, they wanted to move the company before the men patrolled too far from the towns.

 

Bilbo had turned scarlet when he’d woken in Thorin’s arms and found many of the company already awake and shooting them both amused glances. However, they’d quickly turned back to cooking breakfast when the King stirred, releasing his hold on Bilbo so he could join the company for a quick breakfast. Thorin joined him not long after, choosing to sit next to his burglar but not touching- they’d both become quite shy under the scrutiny of the other dwarves and wizard who kept shooting Bilbo knowing looks.

 

When Thorin was called away by Gandalf to attend to a matter regarding the next leg of their journey, Bilbo only managing to hear something about a friend’s house, Balin scooted closer to the hobbit. Bilbo smiled at the elderly dwarf who gently returned it.

 

Balin bent his head close to Bilbo’s, “I wanted to thank you laddie.”

 

“For what?” Bilbo replied, confused. He hadn’t expected Balin to thank him for saving Thorin’s life and he could have done that in front of the King.

 

“For making Thorin happy, I haven’t seen him smile like that for 10 years or more. A lot of responsibility has been weighing heavy on him and he hasn’t had the time to find someone. Even when Thror still ruled under the mountain, Thorin had a lot of worries regarding his grandfather’s health. I’m delighted for you both,” he finished softly, his beard shifting with the intensity of Balin’s smile.

 

Ah... “We’re not... I mean...” Were they? All they’d done was share a bedroll, the same as everyone else and it would be selfish of him to pursue this, knowing what he did. And yet as he looked at Thorin, he felt the same tug in his chest tying him to the dwarf. It wasn’t love per se, they hadn’t known each other nearly long enough for that, but there was some sort of connection there, something which he could not quite understand. Hobbits didn’t have soul-mates or ‘Ones’ as dwarves called them but then again, as he’d been shown repeatedly over the past few weeks, he wasn’t exactly a normal hobbit...

 

Balin just chuckled at Bilbo’s conflicted expression, “He’s very fond of you laddie, even if he doesn’t say it. And my eyesight’s not so poor as to miss that you’re fond of him as well. You both deserve some happiness.” Did he though? Everyone told him he’d done nothing wrong and yet he still blamed himself. There was no guarantee that Thorin would forgive him and yet there was still that possibility...

 

He was unable to continue his train of thought or his conversation with Balin as the Eagle’s insisted that they must leave before the sun rose any higher. Bilbo was glad he was allowed the clamber up onto the Eagle’s back rather than being swept up and dropped.

 

And then they were off again, lifted high into the sky, the Eagle’s using the bank of cloud as cover for their movements. They were likely still being pursued by Azog and so they needed to be careful, a large group of Great Eagles easily catches the attention of all those on the ground. The dwarves were considerably more relaxed this time around, not being able to see just how high they were above the ground and having had some time to recover from their ordeal.

 

However, when his Eagle dipped and soared on a wind current, Bilbo’s grip on the bird’s feathers tightened considerably. Nope, he still much preferred walking.

 

“You needn’t hold my feathers so tight Master Hobbit,” the Eagle called back to him, “Have no fear, we shall not let you fall.”

 

“My apologies Master...”

 

“Landroval.”

 

“...Landroval,” he corrected apologetically, loosening his grip on the feathers under his hands.

 

The Eagles landed them by the river Anduin much to the delight of the dwarves. After calling out their thanks to the Eagles, they promptly began to strip off and run into the river, eager to wash off the soot from the fire and blood of their enemies, leaving a blushing hobbit, a stoic Dwarf King and Wizard standing on the pebble beach.

 

“Farewell!” the Eagles cried, “wherever you fare, till your eyries receive you at the journey’s end.”

 

“May the wind under your wings bear you where the sun sails and the moon walks,” answered Gandalf with the customary reply.

 

Bilbo watched the Eagles disappear off into the clouds for a moment. They truly were beautiful creatures and he felt honoured to have been able to spend such time with them. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was the first Hobbit to have ridden a Great Eagle.

 

Turning back to the river, he kept his gaze low as he made his way down the pebble beach, the stones clacking together as he walked over them. He’d seen enough of the dwarves changing throughout the journey so far to know that if he didn’t have to look on the company’s bodies again, he would die a very happy hobbit indeed.

 

Kneeling down on the pebbles, he rolled up his sleeves and noticed for the first time just how dirty his arms had become. Black blood had coagulated into his arm hair and had mixed with the soot from the smoke. Images of the bodies he’d seen in his dream filled his head, all the bodies that had surrounded him, their eyes unseeing, their blood staining the ground. The reminder of his dreams panicked the poor hobbit and with an almost frenzy, he splashed water on his arms- scrubbing furiously; attempting to wash all sign of the beings he’d killed from his skin. His skin turned red raw under his brutal ministrations, but he didn’t stop, he had to get it off... he had to...

 

“Bilbo stop,” a voice commanded firmly from above him. He didn’t listen, tears pricking in frustration when he couldn’t get parts of his arms clean, causing him to rub harder.

 

Strong but gentle hands caught his wrists and stopped him before Bilbo could do any more harm to himself. Looking up, he saw Thorin crouched next to him, his face frowning, full of concern. He hadn’t heard the dwarf walking up to him, even in his heavy boots. Nor had he noticed the company around him who had stopped bathing and playing to stare worriedly at their burglar. Shame and embarrassment flooded through him at having been caught in a moment of weakness. Having seen Thorin intervene, the company turned away to give them privacy and continued bathing and laughing as they had done before, trusting the King to calm Bilbo down.

 

Not saying anything, Thorin slowly released one of his wrists and reached for a cloth he’d brought with him, his movements careful and controlled as though Bilbo was a deer who may bolt at any sudden movement. Dipping the cloth in the river, he brought it up to Bilbo’s arm and rubbed the wet rag in soothing circles across his skin. He flinched away when the cold reached his now sore and sensitive arms but he allowed Thorin to continue cleaning him when he’d relaxed enough into his touch.

 

Now he was out of his maddened frenzy, he noticed just how much damage he’d done to himself. Deep red lines criss-crossed their way across his arms where he’s scratched himself, blood welling up in parts where the skin had broken. It ran down his arms, mixing with the blood that had already dried there. Seeing the escaping blood, Thorin turned his attention to mopping it up before it could get any further, aware of the fact Bilbo was struggling to hold it together.

 

The blood and grime came off much easier with the cloth, it formed curls of black liquid in the river every time Thorin dipped it back in to clean it before continuing his work on Bilbo’s arms. Thorin also dabbed gently at a few spots of blood on Bilbo’s cheeks, that he hadn’t noticed, which had landed there from his assault on the white Warg. Bilbo relaxed more and more as his arms became cleaner, and he came back to himself, properly taking in what was going on around him.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to Thorin, he wasn’t the injured one and yet he was the one being looked after.

 

The King didn’t say anything as the last of the blood came off his arms and he used a new cloth to dry him so that he didn’t get a chill. Straightening, Thorin held out his hand towards Bilbo, his eyes soft but face serious, “Come and sit with me,” he murmured against the loud shouts and cries being made by the company.

 

He stared at the hand in front of him before slowly slipping his much smaller one into Thorin’s palm, allowing the dwarf to pull him to his feet and lead him off the beach to sit in a wide circle of stones where Gandalf was currently residing, smoking his pipe and watching the company with amusement.

 

His face turned red once more when he realised Thorin had yet to release his hand, his thumb was rubbing reassuring circles against the back of Bilbo’s hand.

 

“What is troubling you Bilbo?” he asked softly.

 

The hobbit didn’t meet his eyes, he was too embarrassed, “Nothing,” he responded petulantly.

 

“Bilbo look at me,” Thorin ordered him smoothly. Reluctantly, Bilbo lifted his head to meet his eyes, relaxing slightly at the sight of them. “You’re a strong hobbit Bilbo, and it pains me to see you upset. So I ask you again, what is troubling you? You cannot push away everyone who tries to help, especially me,” echoing Bilbo’s words from Rivendell.

 

Everything, Bilbo wanted to say- the guilt he carries, being faced with meeting Smaug again, preventing hundreds of deaths including Thorin’s and his nephews as well as Smaug’s, the feelings he couldn’t stop developing for him and feeling guilty for allowing this to continue, the war he had to prevent and being unable to tell Thorin any of this for fear of rejection and breaking the bond tying them together.

 

However, instead he replied, “I-I don’t know... just a bit out of sorts I guess... after the events in and after the goblin tunnels and the nightmares...” he trailed off.

 

“I didn’t ask you what your dream was about last night, figuring you’d want the sleep- do you wish to talk about it now?” Thorin asked him gently, squeezing his hand.

 

Bilbo shook his head, dropping his eyes from Thorin’s face, “I can’t remember it,” he lied. How could he tell him he’d seen Smaug and Thorin fighting and then tormenting him?

 

Thorin hummed, unconvinced but not willing to push Bilbo any further, “Gandalf tells me that a friend of his lives close by and we’ll be able to stay there for a day or two whilst we recover further. However, with Azog after us, we must start walking soon. Do you feel up to it?”

 

Bilbo laughed without much humour, “Shouldn’t I be asking _you_ that?” putting on a weak smile as he lifted his eyes back to the Thorin’s face.

 

Thorin smiled back at him, reassured that Bilbo had managed to regain some of his humour, “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, letting go of Bilbo’s hand to stand, “I’ll go and get the others out before they cause too much trouble,” he smirked, turning to walk back down the beach, barking orders for the company to get out and get dressed.

 

He could hear Fili and Kili’s groans from where he was sat which made him smile to himself. He looked away towards the forest when he could hear the splashing of very naked dwarves coming out of the river. However, what he didn’t anticipate was for Fili and Kili to come after him and flop either side of him, dripping wet and clutching their clothes in their hands. He turned his eyes up at the sky, praying for patience and that the young dwarves would get their clothes back on at a slightly faster pace.

 

“So, Bilbo...” Fili began, pulling on his shirt before his small clothes. Bilbo swore he was doing that just to embarrass and annoy him further.

 

“You and Uncle...” Kili added. Oh Yavanna save him, here it comes...

 

“Me and my dear brother here was wondering...”

 

“Well, really everyone was wondering, especially after Bofur won the bet...”

 

“What bet?” Bilbo interjected; oh he was going to kill that dwarf.

 

“Not important,” Kili smirked.

 

“So we were wondering whether we should be calling you Uncle Bilbo?” Fili finally asked causing Bilbo to splutter, “What?”

 

“Or Auntie if you prefer,” Kili added honestly.

 

Bilbo just stared at the half naked dwarves beside him- really he couldn’t believe how cheeky these dwarves were...

 

“Fili, Kili, help the others pack up,” Thorin growled above the trio who hastened to obey, pulling on the last of their clothing and throwing them both amused glances before giggling and hurrying off.

 

“Forgive me for my nephew’s behaviour, despite their age they’re still incredibly juvenile,” Thorin grumbled discontentedly as he stared after the pair.

 

Bilbo got to his feet and stood by the side of the dwarf, “So you’re telling me they don't take after you?” he grinned up at the frowning King who looked down at him, raising his eyebrow.

 

“No...” Thorin replied seriously.

 

“So you’re not going to tell Mister Baggins about the time you and Frerin decided it would be a good idea to bury your 10 year old sister in Thror’s treasure hall?” Dwalin called as he went by.

 

“I was 24 Dwalin!” Thorin barked back.

 

“Hush I want to hear more,” Bilbo smirked, he needed something to distract himself from the chaos bubbling inside of him, threatening to destroy his sanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo really just needs a hug :(
> 
> You'll have noticed that whilst their relationship is sort of developing, they haven't gotten particularly intimate apart from sleeping in the same bedroll. On that front, I was leading that in more slowly because Bilbo is still very conflicted and guilt ridden and Thorin can sense something's not right so he's not going to be taking advantage of Bilbo's emotional vulnerability. 
> 
> There is an essence of a soul mate/ soul bond/ Dwarven ones type thing but it's not that clear cut, it's still something which has to be discovered, agreed upon and developed by both parties. Whilst there is a one/soul bond tying the two together, I didn't want that to be the reason these two developed a relationship, it's more of a background force which keeps pushing them together until they find a relationship that works for them both
> 
> In terms of the dream, Smaug is not monster size there (as he is currently) because Bilbo's only memory of him is of the size he was the day he left
> 
> Next Chapter: Tuesday! They make it to Beorn's and we learn what has happened to the survivors in Dale (bearing in mind this is set 10 years after Erebor was taken so Lake-Town has not yet been built)
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	13. Notions of Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin discuss Dwarven and Hobbit ideals of beauty, Bilbo learns what happens to the men of Dale and they arrive at Beorn's.

It transpired that Thorin and Frerin had decided to play a game of hide and seek in Thror’s treasure chamber with their younger sister Dís but had left her there after deciding they’d rather raid the kitchens. Dís had come bursting into the council chamber, hours later, whilst a meeting was in progress, gold coins falling out of her clothes as she ran in, wearing a great deal of gems and gold finery.

 

Thror had called his two grandsons to the throne room not long after and berated them in front of the entire court. They were then put in charge of cleaning Thror’s gold for a week, after which they couldn’t stand the sight of the stuff. Their fingers itching in memory of the hours spent scrubbing endless piles of coins and goblets.

 

Bilbo had burst out laughing when Dwalin had explained the story to him. He was thankful of the distraction, even if Thorin was now pouting sullenly because they were laughing at his expense. Dwalin had dropped back to speak with Balin after completing his tale, leaving Bilbo with the King at the head of the company. It felt good to relax and just walk companionably with Thorin along the path heading into the forest towards a house owned by a man called Beorn.

 

He threw a sidelong glance at Thorin, observing the sharp outline of his nose and brow as he plodded along next to him. Despite the fact his nose was fairly large, by both Hobbit and Dwarven standards, it was oddly defining Bilbo found and did nothing to detract from the fact he was still very handsome.

 

It was at this point that Thorin flicked his eyes in Bilbo’s direction and found the Hobbit staring at him, _again,_ Thorin’s mouth quirking up into a small smile _._ He really needed to stop letting this happen, Bilbo thought to himself as his ears turned bright red.

 

Deciding to draw attention away from the fact that he’d been admiring the dwarf next to him he asked, “So what was Erebor like?”

 

Thorin’s eyes widened slightly at the sudden question but he recovered his composure to answer Bilbo’s question, “It was, and hopefully still is, a beautiful city, the greatest of the Dwarven cities to exist in Middle Earth. Great veins of gold ran like rivers through the marble walls and walkways, when they caught the light, they almost seemed alive. And some would go as far to say that the mountain was indeed alive, especially after the founding of the Arkenstone.”

 

Bilbo felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at the reminder of the stone, images Thorin’s maddened eyes flicking into his mind. “What was so special about that stone?” he asked. If he was going to stop Thorin going mad in its power, he needed to know more about why the dwarves were so drawn to it.

 

“It is the most beautiful jewel to have ever been found by a dwarf or any race for that matter. It is the Heart of the Mountain and the King’s jewel, finding it showed that the line of Durin was blessed to rule by Mahal. Do Hobbit’s not covert such love of gems?” Thorin asked, noticing Bilbo’s frown at his description of the stone.

 

Bilbo desperately wanted to tell Thorin that Mahal was currently wishing to avoid the Arkenstone ever getting into the hands of any member of the Durin family tree, but instead he said, “No. We have jewellery but we find beauty in growing things. To us, nothing can be more beautiful than watching something grow, whether that is a plant or a family; the knowledge that our time and care has created life in turn is something that all Hobbit’s appreciate.” He smiled at his own words, thinking back to his garden back at Bag-End.

 

“We think the same of our gems. We spend such time mining and carving them out that their beauty reflects who we are as a dwarf. A dwarf who rushes his work or does not take care in his craft is thought to be sloppy and lazy in all aspects of his life. Jewellery is used on all occasions, for the day we come of age, birthday gifts and in courtships for example,” Thorin’s voice turning soft.

 

“It’s the same for us but with flowers. Courting hobbits give flowers and wear flower crowns on their wedding day. Each has their own meaning and significance.”

 

Thorin hummed as he took in Bilbo’s words, “Coming back to your earlier point, why is it that a hobbit of your, erm... respectable age should be without a family if you appreciate growing things so much?”

 

Bilbo almost stopped walking at Thorin’s question, thinking about how to go about answering him but snorted in amusement when he thought back on Thorin’s description of his age, “Respectable age? If you weren’t injured, regardless of the fact that you’re a King, I’d cuff your ears for that, as would any hobbit in the Shire for that comment.” Hobbit ears were incredibly sensitive and he still winced at the memories of his mother pulling him by them when she’d found whatever mischief he’d been making.

 

Thorin smiled bashfully, “I meant no offence Master Hobbit. I tried to be delicate,” he apologised.

 

“I know you sodding dwarf,” returning Thorin’s smile, “But I will answer your question despite the slight. I have no family because starting one has never been possible for a hobbit such as me. No, I tend to my garden and appreciate the life I grow there.” Hoping Thorin got his meaning but judging by the way Thorin did not ask any further questions and the way his mood lightened, it apparently had.

 

They talked amiably for a while longer regarding Erebor and the Shire respectfully. Erebor seemed to hold a different kind of beauty in the dwarves’ eyes. Whilst the Shire was beautiful for its natural state and peacefully tranquillity, Erebor held beauty in the way the dwarves had taken centuries of care to build the city and the sheer volume of life it could support. Although Thorin did add the lack of prosperity in Erebor’s final days with the lack of trading with Dale and other races.

 

“Were there any survivors from Dale?” Bilbo asked- his mood lowering as he thought about how many children would have lost their lives to Smaug’s fire.

 

“There were many who managed to escape, yes,” Thorin replied, his own mood darkening.

 

“Where did they go?” He asked curiously. He’d thought about the dead men he’d seen in his dream and knew he had to somehow secure their alliance but had yet to figure out how to do so. He had no idea where they were now staying or whether they’d come to any settlements of men on their journey.

 

“They took refuge with the Elves. I believe they have built a town on the outskirts of Mirkwood, having called it Woodlandale in memory of the home they lost and their future as allies with the Elves,” Thorin replied flatly.

 

Ah... so bitterness existed in that the Elves had helped the men but had refused to help the Dwarves. However, the alliance between the men and Elves could pose useful... if he could convince Thranduil to help him then he may be able to ask the Elven King to call the men to fight as well. The notion of asking men who had not long forgotten the memory of dragon-fire was not one that Bilbo was thrilled about but he didn’t have a choice. He had to bring these races together, for one last stand.

 

Noticing Bilbo’s thoughtfulness, Thorin asked, “What is your interest in the men?”

 

Bilbo’s brain froze as it scrambled for a reasonable explanation for his sudden curiosity, “Just trying to get a clear picture what happened that day,” he replied, it was not a lie at least but it was not the whole truth either.

 

Thorin hummed and was about to ask something else before they found themselves on the edge of the forest, staring out at a large house sat in a meadow. Smoke burned from the chimney, indicating the house’s occupant was currently home.

 

The company stopped behind them, gathering in a group as they waited to move forward again. Gandalf pushed forward, turning to speak to the company but mainly directing his words towards Thorin, “Beorn is a skinchanger and all the life in this area is under his protection therefore you are not to hunt during your stay and only when we are well away on our journey. He’s a very suspicious man- he won’t take kindly to 13 dwarves, a hobbit and a wizard begging his hospitality. As such, it is imperative that you let me do all the talking. I will go with Bilbo first and then when I signal with a whistle, you must come forward in small groups, no bigger than twos and threes. No sudden movements and be sure to bow low. We don’t want an angry bear on our tail,” he told them sternly before walking off towards the house.

 

It took Bilbo a moment before he realised that Gandalf was expecting him to follow and hurried off after him.

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

 

The introductions with Beorn had gone better than expected. Initially, Bilbo had been absolutely terrified that the skin-changer would step on him accidently with him being so small.

 

On the contrary, Beorn had taken a particular shine to Bilbo and insisted on carrying him round on his broad shoulders, referring to him as ‘Little Bunny’- a nickname which Fili and Kili had eagerly adopted much to Bilbo’s horror. He was a gentle-hobbit of the Shire, not one Beorn’s curious animals which lived in his home.

 

When Beorn had finally set Bilbo down, he scurried off into the garden, quite like a rabbit, to avoid being subject to another tour around the surrounding area. As much as he appreciated the beauty of the place, he would have appreciated it all the more from the safety of the ground.

 

Finding a nice spot behind a row of hedges, Bilbo sat amongst the wildflowers and took a moment to allow the nature around him to calm the storm brewing in the back of his mind where he’d shoved all the events of the past few weeks. He didn’t want to think about the quest, or his conflicted feelings or Smaug, he just wanted this moment alone.

 

He watched as bees, far bigger than any he’d ever seen, fly in and out of the flowers around him. Regardless of the season, all the plants seemed to be flowering heavily, daisies, foxgloves, Mint and even Zinnia flowered around him. Beorn must have an enchantment placed on the plants or the ground in which they are grown to have them all flower at once and with such beauty. Even an adept gardener such as Bilbo would not have been able to persuade forget-me-not’s to flower at the same time as Scarlet Flax without the use of a greenhouse.

 

As he shifted his position, to prevent his legs becoming numb, he ended up sitting on something small and hard. Thinking it to be a stone, Bilbo shifted to pull the object from under him and held it for inspection. It was an Acorn! Its surface was a rich brown which reflected the sun’s rays. Its cap was still firmly holding the nut, from where it used to hang from its parent tree. As Bilbo ran his thumb over its surface, he felt loath to let it go. Who knew how this tree would grow with the magic held over the area? The potential that Bilbo felt within the nut compelled him to keep it, promising to himself that he would plant it when he returned home.

 

But as he attempted to put it into his pocket, he felt another item occupying the space. Bilbo replaced the item in his pocket with the Acorn and pulled out the Heartstone. He’d completely forgotten he even had it! It seemed to pulse slightly in his hand as he held it, it’s heat warming his fingers. He still had no idea what he was supposed to do with it- he couldn’t think of how it would be any help with the men or the elves unless Elves liked Heartstone’s as much as dragons in which case he could use it as payment. But he would have thought Galadriel would have told him that bit of information. When the time came, he’d know what to do with it, trusting in Galadriel’s words for once.

 

Heavy footsteps sounded to his right, coming closer. Bilbo shoved the Heartstone into his other pocket and pushed himself slightly into the hedge behind him, hoping that if it was Beorn that he’d pass by and not notice him. He pondered using the ring but he didn’t like the effect it had on him, the way it left him distant from the world around him. However, as the footsteps drew closer he noted that they were not quite heavy enough for the skin-changer and as he looked round for the source of the noise, he found himself nose to nose with one of Beorn’s large dogs.

 

Bilbo jumped back when he felt the dog’s wet nose touch his. The dog dropped its mouth into a wolfish grin before biting gently on the edge of Bilbo’s sleeve, urging the hobbit to stand and follow him. Sighing, Bilbo got to his feet, working the cramp out his legs before following the shaggy, grey dog through the garden and back into Beorn’s house.  

 

When he entered, he found dinner already being served. Sheep were carrying plates of food on their backs to the table and dogs stood on their hind-legs in order to carry dishes. How they managed it, Bilbo had no clue, they didn’t even have thumbs!

 

Looking round, he saw a seat had been left for him next to Thorin who was sat at the head of the table. Blushing, he went and sat next to him, giving the dwarf a small smile before turning to the dishes placed in front of them. Dishes of roast potatoes, Parsnips and Cabbage were accompanied by plates of freshly sliced bread and the animals were still bringing more in! His mouth watered looking at it all and waited no time before pulling the closest dish of roast potatoes towards him and spooning some onto his plate before doing the same with the carrots.

 

For once, none of the dwarves complained about the lack of meat, they’d gone too many nights hungry and cold to turn their noses up at this feast. They didn’t even waste any in a food fight as they had done in Rivendell, although that may be because they were terrified of the giant skin-changer.

 

“Oi Little Bunny! Pass us the carrots!” Kili called up at him.

 

Bilbo paused in his eating to glare at the young dwarf and was just about to throw back a clever comment when a loud voice boomed behind him.

 

“Are you bothering my Little Bunny dwarf?!”Beorn shouted, his muscles flexing dangerously as he bared down on the now, very pale Prince.

 

“N-no Mister Beorn! I assure you, I have utmost respect for Mister Baggins,” Kili said hurriedly, having to crane his neck to look up at the terrifying man above him.

 

Beorn laughed then, a great booming laugh which Bilbo felt vibrating through him to his core. “You dwarves should not bother my Little Bunny. He’s too skinny, he needs to focus on eating,” he told them as he used the pad of one finger to ruffle Bilbo’s curls. “Night is coming. None of you should leave here when the sun sets. The woods are not safe for dwarves and little bunnies,” he finished before exiting the room once more and walking out of the house.

 

Kili breathed a shaky sigh of relief, “I thought I was a goner then for sure.”

 

Gandalf chuckled, “And so you will be if you continue to disrespect Bilbo in his presence. He’s taken an odd shining to him.”

 

Kili bowed his head and carried on eating. Bilbo passed him the carrots and allowed himself a small smile at having been defended by the skin-changer before turning back to his own food, proceeding to eat until his belt had to be loosened to accommodate his bulging belly.

 

They retired to the living room once they’d finished eating, the dwarves sitting in the over-sized armchairs which could sit three dwarves sitting side by side quite comfortably. Bilbo chose to sit by the fire; he enjoyed the warmth of the flames against his skin.

 

Thorin joined him not long after and as Bilbo turned to greet him, he noticed the small wince the dwarf let slip as he sat himself down. “I need to re-dress your wounds,” he told him and Thorin just nodded in agreement, not bothering to protest. “I’ll go and get the stuff from Oin,” he said as he got up and made his way over to the elderly dwarf who was sat on a chair.

 

“Oin, I need to redress Thorin’s wounds if you’ll allow me use of your bandages and poultices once more?” Bilbo asked politely.

 

“Of course lad! My bag’s in the dining room. There’s that ointment there for your burn scars there too, help yourself,” Oin replied, a little too loudly.

 

Bilbo nodded his thanks before retrieving Oin’s bag and returning to Thorin who was now in the process of removing the last of his shirts. However, with his stiff shoulder, he was struggling to get it off and had ended up with it trapped over his head which he was tugging in frustration. The company hadn’t noticed their King’s predicament or they would have been laughing by now, instead they were busy playing or watching a card game.

 

Deciding to help the dwarf before he ripped out his stitches, Bilbo pulled Thorin’s shirt over his head to reveal a very flustered and red faced dwarf. The only item remaining on the dwarf's torso being the key, hung on it's strip of blue leather, lying against Thorin's collarbone. Bilbo couldn’t suppress his laughter then and nearly doubled over with the force of it. The image of the King looking extraordinarily handsome and yet so embarrassed and flustered had stuck in Bilbo’s mind, it was usually him to be the red-faced one.

 

Thorin waited patiently whilst Bilbo’s laughter died down, cocking an eyebrow in question once Bilbo had wiped away enough tears to meet his gaze.

 

“Sorry... sorry... I just...” Bilbo gasped, giggles tickling the back of his throat. He managed to calm himself down enough to open Oin’s pack and begin removing fresh bandages and the poultices. Clearing his throat, he said, “Lift your arm please,” his voice a tone too high from his laughter.

 

Thorin obeyed, lifting his arm to allow Bilbo to unwind the bandages wrapped around his middle, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. Bilbo wasn’t sure whether it was because he’d already done this once or whether it was because the joy of his laughter was still with him, but he no longer felt so embarrassed seeing Thorin’s chest and checking his wounds. The swelling around the cuts had reduced and the skin looked to be knitting itself back together well which reassured Bilbo, no infection had set in at least. The bruising had turned from black and dark purples to lilac and even green in places which showed there had been no more internal bleeding.

 

Bilbo left to go to the kitchen and returned with a basin of water to wash the wounds. Whilst infection hadn’t yet set in, there was still a risk that Bilbo was not willing to take, even if it meant having to wash Thorin’s chest again.

 

Thorin closed his eyes as Bilbo ran the cloth along his skin, relaxing and trusting his burglar to tend to his wounds. Bilbo struggled to keep himself from running a free hand through the dwarf’s chest hair, it was right there in front of him as though taunting him. And he most certainly did not notice the way the dwarf’s nipples puckered when he ran the cloth along a cut on Thorin’s side.

 

When he finished washing Thorin, he dipped his fingers in a tub of poultice and rubbed it along the skin on and around the cut, concentrating on keeping his fingers from straying. Thorin opened his eyes and watched him as Bilbo picked up the fresh bandages and began wrapping the around Thorin’s middle.

 

To keep himself from thinking too much on the occasional brush of Thorin’s beard on his ear, he said, “I should be able to remove the stitches in a few days, the skin is healing nicely.”

 

Thorin just hummed in agreement, the vibrations of it running through the dwarf’s chest and channelling into Bilbo’s hands which almost made him falter in his work. When he finished, he picked up Thorin’s tunic and helped him back on with it. He was about to pick up the next shirt when Thorin caught his wrist, “I won’t bother with the others tonight, I doubt I’ll need my armour and with the fire I’m warm enough,” he said softly, “Let me check your hands,” he added, pulling Bilbo gently to sit next to him again and turning the wrist of the hand he was currently holding over to start removing the bandages running across his palms.

 

Bilbo let him tend to his hands, enjoying the feel of the dwarves larger hands against his own, even if they were calloused and rough from years of using a sword and hammer. He silently passed Thorin the ointment for his burns and the poultice which Thorin took and began massaging into his skin. Bilbo closed his eyes as Thorin had done, barely noticing when Thorin rebadged his hands.

 

He reopened them when he felt Thorin finish his work and kept his hold of one of his hands. The dwarf played with his much smaller fingers, rubbing the pads of his fingers over the lines and creases as though fascinated by the physiological differences of their races.

 

Bilbo wasn’t sure how long they sat there, or at what point Thorin stopped stroking his hand in favour of just holding it in one of his own, palms pressed together and fingers laced comfortably. They sat in silence, the company having wondered off to their bedrolls which they’d placed in the adjoining barn. They watched as the flames died down, too exhausted to say anything but they didn’t need to, the silence was comfortable and filled with words that went unsaid.

 

And for once, Bilbo felt truly contented as though he and Thorin were sat together, not on the quest but as equals, still finding their feet in a relationship and discovering each other. He didn’t think about Smaug or Mirkwood or the Arkenstone and for a few long moments it was though they didn’t exist and in turn the secrets Bilbo was keeping from Thorin did not exist either. And so he felt no guilt as he held Thorin’s hand, their arms and shoulders pressed together, offering support which stretched beyond the mere physical world.

 

Bilbo was snapped out of his thoughts as he saw Thorin nodding off at the side of him, the dwarf’s head coming to rest on Bilbo’s shoulder whilst he battled away the hold of sleep.

 

Sighing gently, Bilbo slowly got to his feet, forcing the dwarf to move off his shoulder- he didn’t think he’d be able to support his weight if Thorin went completely to sleep on him. Thorin blinked sleepily up at him, allowing Bilbo to pull him to his feet and lead him to the adjoining barn where he saw their bedrolls laid out of straw mattresses. The company were already asleep, their snores filling the air around them.

 

But as Bilbo sat the King down on his bed, Thorin did not let go of his hand and pulled Bilbo down with him to lie with his back to Thorin’s chest. Bilbo had resisted for a moment before consenting, feeling the need to have the dwarf next to him again. Thorin slung an arm over Bilbo’s waist to pull him so tightly against his chest Bilbo could feel the slow beat of his heart against his back. It helped to calm his own heart which had picked up a faster rhythm at Thorin’s actions. He hoped Thorin didn’t think Bilbo had taken advantage of him in his half asleep state. His concerns dissipated though as sleep clawed at the fringes of his consciousness.

 

Just before he slipped into a dreamless sleep, he wasn’t sure whether Thorin had pressed a kiss into his curls or whether it was a product of wishful thinking and exhaustion, either way, he fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that was a nice balance between fluff and plot. The next chapter ended up being almost entirely fluff somehow, I think it's because I'd drafted a particularly sad future chapter and needed something happy haha I hope you enjoy it regardless
> 
> Next Chapter: Thursday! Thorin teaches Bilbo how to fight and the training takes an unexpected turn
> 
> If you're enjoying this, let me know in a comment :) It makes the hours writing and editing worth it
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	14. Pockets of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin attempts to teach Bilbo how to use a sword however the training takes an unexpected turn

“ _Bilbo?”_ a voice whispered to him. But he was far too comfortable to open his eyes, whatever they wanted it could wait.

 

“Bilbo?” the voice repeated a little louder and was accompanied with a shake of his arm. The movement caused him to pull further away from sleep’s embrace and he opened his eyes, noticing the darkness that was still surrounding him, a few rays of sunlight making their way through the cracks in the wall. The sun was only just rising, nowhere near time to be getting up for first breakfast.

 

Bilbo’s searching eyes eventually fell on Thorin whom he frowned at grumpily. He did not appreciate the wakeup call one bit. The dwarf was knelt in front of him, still wearing his light tunic and breaches but he also had Orcrist strapped to his waist and in his hand, he held Bilbo’s sword- Bilbo having unbuckled it shortly after his arrival.

“What do you want?” Bilbo whined, although it came out more like ‘ _Wha-du-warn?’_

 

Thorin snorted softly, “It’s about time I showed you how to use this letter-opener of yours Bilbo. C’mon, we can get through a few drills before breakfast.”

 

“Now’s not the time for anything but sleeping,” Bilbo mumbled, shutting his eyes again and hoping Thorin would leave him alone.

 

His shoulder was shook again, no such luck, “Don’t go back to sleep. This time of day is perfect for practice. You won’t want to learn with the midday sun bearing down on you but we will practice then if you prefer.”

 

I’d prefer it if you let me sleep here all day and left me here, Bilbo wanted to say, but instead opened his eyes, levelling the dwarf a glare. “Have I ever told you how annoying you are?”

 

Thorin just continued to smile, “Not in words but your glares at me throughout the quest spoke volumes enough,” he said, slipping his hand into Bilbo’s and tugging the sleepy hobbit to his feet. “You’ll want to leave your jacket and waistcoat here, trust me, you’ll be plenty warm soon.”

 

Bilbo let go of his hand to pull of his jacket and waistcoat, discreetly making sure that his belongings were secure in his pocket before following the dwarf outside.

 

Dawn was breaking over the horizon, turning the sky burnt orange before it faded back into the starlit veil still covering the opposite horizon. Dew clung to the grass beneath his feet, causing it to sparkle as the light slowly made its way across the meadow. Bilbo shivered in the cool morning air, wrapping his arms around himself to stave off the cold. Thorin seemed unaffected and strode through the flowers in his thin tunic as though it was a warm summer day. Alright for some, Bilbo thought bitterly, this was not how he'd planned to spend the day. He'd planned a day of sitting outside, smoking his pipe and snacking on Beorn's pastries, not sparring with a stubborn lump of a dwarf who he couldn't look at without blushing.  

 

Said dwarf led him a little way away from the house, coming to stand in a clearing surrounded by the hedgerows Bilbo had been hiding in the previous day. Turning, Thorin handed Bilbo back his sword. It still felt incredibly clumsy in his hands.

 

“Adjust your grip, it’s too tight here and your fingers are all wrong,” Thorin complained, moving Bilbo’s fingers into the correct position. He was too tired to come back with a retort. “Now change your stance, you need to relax. You’re preparing for a swordfight not an arm wrestle. Move your feet like this... no further apart... that’s it now bend your knees a little... not that much you’re not on a latrine... perfect,” Thorin exclaimed, stepping back to appreciate his work.

 

Bilbo rolled his eyes at him, “Is all this really necessary?” Still thinking of his warm bedroll although he kept his thoughts away from the fact he’d slept with Thorin again.

 

“Yes, with Azog after us you’ll need to be able to protect yourself, even if it just buys you enough time for one of us to aid you,” Thorin replied before unsheathing Orcrist. “Orcrist is well suited for you to learn against because its length is similar to that of Orc weaponry and the reach of an Orc's arm.” Bilbo eyed the blade cautiously- surely this wasn’t a fair fight he thought, looking back at his much shorter weapon which looked almost pathetic in comparison.

 

“If I came at you like this,” Thorin continued, moving slowly to bring Orcrist aiming towards Bilbo’s shoulder where his neck met his torso, “How would you block?”

 

In answer, Bilbo gingerly raised his sword to meet Thorin’s, the steel clashing together with an unpleasant ring. The dwarf moved faster than Bilbo could follow and had managed to disarm him and trip him so he’d begun to fall onto his back. Thorin caught him before he could hit the ground and held his sword to Bilbo’s throat, the blade just inches away from piercing his skin. Bilbo froze, not daring to move.

 

“It’s not enough to just move your arms. You need to shift your posture. Your balance was off as was your grip which allowed me to take your sword and land you on your back,” Thorin explained patiently before releasing him and pulling him back onto his feet. “Move your entire body so that you have the strength to meet my sword. An Orc is not going to hold back when they slash down on you.”

 

It took a great deal of cursing from them both as well as many falls on Bilbo’s part, Thorin not always having the time to catch him before his bottom hit the ground, until he’d managed to master a couple of basic blocks. His learning was incredible slow though, the sun having fully risen above the horizon and tracking its way up the sky. They hadn’t made much progress in their time outside and they both grew incredibly hot and frustrated.

 

In the end, Bilbo threw down his sword, the blade clanging against a stone it hit on the ground. He was too tired, they were both sweaty- their shirt’s clinging to their skin. All Bilbo wanted was to wash, change and get ready for breakfast, but Thorin was not ready for him to give up yet.

 

“Pick up your weapon,” Thorin commanded.

 

“No,” Bilbo replied sullenly, folding his arms across his chest, “I’m not one of your subjects Thorin, you can’t command me. I’m done for today.” he said, turning to make his way back inside. But before he could get any further, Thorin moved in front of him, raising his sword to block his way. Bilbo huffed, “Thorin get out of my way,” he said as he tried to find a way around the dwarven barricade, but Thorin blocked him at every turn.

 

“Fight me,” Thorin commanded.

 

“I don’t want to _fight_ you!”

 

“Tough, you won’t want to fight those Orcs either, but you’ll need to fight them regardless. Pick up your sword and get past me,” Thorin said calmly.

 

Angered, Bilbo swept the sword up and turned to face the dwarf who adopted a fighting pose. Bilbo copied him, raising his sword defensively as Thorin had shown him. He stood there for a moment before he realised that Thorin was waiting for him to make the first move.

 

With a cry, Bilbo ran forward, slashing towards the dwarf, hoping to turn him so he could get round him. But Thorin just deflected the blow, almost lazily and used the connection of the swords to push Bilbo back, away from the house.

 

Irritated, Bilbo tried again, from the other side, ending up meeting the same resistance he had done before and landing backwards, almost tripping over again. “Come Halfling, I could have killed you thrice times over by now,” Thorin mocked. And it was with the use of Thorin’s old term for him that Bilbo realised that the dwarf was purposely trying to get him angry. This was a test.

 

Willing himself to be calm, he moved forwards again, assessing Thorin’s weak spots. He couldn’t aim for his legs without leaving his head vulnerable. Thorin’s head was a no-go- he was just too bloody tall! The only thing he had against the dwarf was speed, his sword was much shorter and so moved much faster, Bilbo just needed to have more confidence in what he was doing.

 

Pretending to be as enraged as he had been before, he slashed at Thorin’s side again but at the last second he changed direction, dancing lightly on his feet to come at Thorin’s other side. Thorin hadn’t anticipated the trick and had ended up twisting in an attempt to block Bilbo’s other assault, leaving his stance off-balance. Seizing the opportunity, Bilbo kicked at Thorin’s knee with his large feet causing the dwarf to go down on one knee. But before Bilbo could bring his sword up to Thorin’s neck, the King tackled him, using his free hand to grab Bilbo’s sword arm and force it towards the ground. Bilbo gasped as he landed on his back Thorin straddling his waist and leaning towards him as he brought Orcrist to his neck once more.

 

“Good,” Thorin gasped out, sweat running down his brow, “Never allow your anger to take control of your actions in battle, you are in control of your sword, remember that.” Removing Orcrist from Bilbo’s neck but not shifting his weight from him. Bilbo’s heart hammered, but it wasn’t just from the physical exertion- Thorin was so close to Bilbo’s face he could feel the heat radiating from him. He couldn’t reply, his words stuck into his throat as he gazed back into Thorin’s blue eyes.

 

Time around them seemed to stop for a moment as they both considered what to do now both unwilling to move or speak. Bilbo felt the connection binding him to Thorin tighten considerably, as though to move would break it. He wanted this... and yet there was Smaug, and the quest and all the lies... but that became forgotten as he watched Thorin’s eyes darken and his head tilt in question, his nose brushing against Bilbo’s. He was waiting for Bilbo to make up his mind, to meet him halfway or to leave and draw this dalliance to a close.

 

His heart tugged painfully at the thought of losing whatever he had with Thorin. He was so tired of being alone and afraid. Giving in to his selfish desires, he allowed his eyes to slip close and press his lips against Thorin’s, softer than he’d ever imagined, and the dwarf gasped at the touch before moving his lips against Bilbo’s, hesitant at first but then his confidence grew as Bilbo responded in kind, the kiss becoming incredibly tender. In an instant, he lost himself to the sensation of Thorin against him, the way his beard scratched at Bilbo’s face, the weight of the dwarf slowly settling onto him, chest to chest, Thorin resting his weight on his forearms, either side of Bilbo's head so as to not entirely crush him. Bilbo didn’t mind the pressure and arched his back slightly to press ever closer; it relieved the ache inside his chest and warmth spread through him like wildfire, setting his nerves aflame.

 

Thorin’s tongue traced Bilbo’s lips asking for permission, and Bilbo granted it wholeheartedly, needing to get closer to the dwarf. He moaned unabashedly as Thorin’s tongue caressed his own before exploring his mouth. Letting go of his sword, Bilbo tangled his hands in Thorin’s long hair, tugging lightly which elicited a deep growl from the dwarf which he felt through the thin fabric of their shirts, before running his fingers through the beard on his cheek. To know he had made Thorin make that noise sent a jolt of pleasure through him, causing him to shudder. He playfully bit at Thorin’s bottom lip, pulling the swollen flesh gently, before lapping at the small mark and pressing a final peck to his lips as he reluctantly withdrew for breath, his head falling back against the soft grass, opening his eyes to stare up at the hovering dwarf. He kept his palm pressed against the King's cheek, enjoying the rough feel of it beneath his fingers and relishing every contact, physical and otherwise, he maintained with Thorin. 

 

The King’s eyes opened, hunger-filled blue eyes locking onto hazel. Thorin nuzzled into Bilbo's hand before moving forward to press their foreheads together in an act which felt almost as intimate as their kissing had done. Shifting his weight, Thorin brought a hand to Bilbo's cheek, the opposite one to Thorin's held cheek, and caressed the smooth skin with a sweep of his thumb. Their faces were flushed and lips slightly swollen but all Bilbo could think about was the sensation of completeness which had settled in his chest, to know that his feelings for the dwarf had not been unrequited and he was not insane and had imagined Thorin’s interest. He couldn’t lose this, to feel connected so deeply to another being... and yet there was still the danger ahead, every risk they could lose each other and the risk that Thorin would leave him should he discover Bilbo’s secret.

 

The present was so much better than the future right now he was reminded when Thorin brought him back out of his brooding thoughts. “You feel it too do you not?” he murmured.

 

And Bilbo did not need to ask what he meant, whispering out “Yes.”

 

Thorin sighed in relief as though he had feared a negative in Bilbo’s answer. He shifted his weight off Bilbo then, to allow the hobbit to sit cross-legged next to him, lacing their fingers together once more, reluctant to sever the physical connection between them.

 

Rubbing tender small circles into the back of Bilbo’s hand, he asked, “What do you know of Dwarven ‘Ones’?”

 

“Not a great deal,” Bilbo answered honestly, “Just that there is a match for every dwarf and that they do not feel complete until they find them.” He'd picked up the knowledge through small bits of overheard conversations between the dwarves.

 

Thorin nodded thoughtfully, “That’s the gist of it. Although not all dwarves marry their ones, the nature of the relationship is up to the two of them- whether that be friendship or more. Therefore there is often an extensive courtship process to ensure that both individuals want this and to give them time to pull away if they need to. Dwarves love only once so we take such matters very seriously. The flexibility of the relationship allows dwarves who had given up looking for their one and settled down to love another to still have that connection in their lives, even if it’s not a physical one.”

 

“And have we, by doing as we just did, skip several stages of that courtship?” Bilbo snorted.

 

Thorin smiled bashfully, “Perhaps... but our circumstances are not exactly normal.” No they were not indeed, Bilbo agreed silently.

 

“And there’s nothing wrong with the fact I’m a hobbit and you’re well... a dwarf?” Bilbo asked, afraid of his answer. He didn’t want to cause a scandal by having a forbidden relationship with the King under the Mountain.

 

“No,” Thorin assured him with a squeeze of his hand, “To find your one is such a rarity that to refuse someone such a gift is to insult Mahal.”

 

“S-so what now?” Bilbo asked tentatively, he hadn’t realised the true extent of this connection, or he would have kept his distance more to avoid collateral damage later. But now it was too late, they were both into this too deeply to sever the connection without harming each other greatly whether that was today or months in the future.

 

Thorin hummed thoughtfully before responding “Now... we allow this to take its course. If we were in Erebor, I’d court you properly, crafting you gifts of gold and mithril to show everyone that you were taken. And when we reclaim the Mountain, I’d wish to do things properly however I am an impatient dwarf and I think it permissible if we skip several stages whilst on the quest,” he smiled crookedly and Bilbo’s heart lightened to see it.

 

Bilbo just smiled and nodded his assent. Thorin’s smile beamed as he leaned forward to press a whiskery kiss to Bilbo’s brow before pulling the hobbit to his feet. “Come hobbit mine, I do believe if we wait any longer breakfast will have finished without us.”

 

His stomach growled, it having laid forgotten the moment Thorin’s lips touched his. He waited as Thorin picked up their swords and they walked hand in hand back to the house. Smoke was rising from the chimney, indicating the company were up and breakfast was being cooked.

 

Bilbo felt nervous as they came to the door, he wasn’t sure how the company would treat him now that things had developed further with Thorin. As though sensing Bilbo’s nerves, Thorin gently squeezed his hand and gave him a small smile which he returned, before pushing open the door to greet the company.

 

What he didn’t expect when they sat together at the dining table, sitting on the same bench to keep their hands entwined, were cries of ‘finally!’ and ‘about bloody time!” which made at least Thorin snort in amusement at Bilbo’s shocked expression.

 

“I swear if I was going to have to sit though more of you two mooning after each other, I was going to chop my beard off!” Gloin exclaimed.

 

He hadn’t been that obvious had he? Then he thought of all the times he’d been caught staring and he guessed the company had noticed a little more than he thought they had.

 

But the dwarves looked positively thrilled overall, especially Fili and Kili who hadn’t stopped giggling at small comments they kept making in whispers between them ever since the two of them had walked in. Balin had nodded and grinned knowingly in Bilbo’s direction, making him blush. And Gandalf’s eyes were twinkling in a mischievous sort of way, as though he’d known all along. And really, knowing the wizard, Bilbo could only guess at how long he’d suspected something may happen between the two of them.

 

However, as he sat hand in hand with Thorin, tucking into breakfast with the company around him, he felt a strong family connection to the dwarves around him, with whom he’d shared in so much peril and he felt honoured that he’d been allowed this moment of peace in the storm that was only going to get worse in the days to come.

 

He only hoped that they’d be allowed more moments like this. That this quest would not take this from him, a chance of happiness that could stretch beyond the future Bilbo had seen.

 

And as he lay again with Thorin that night, with his head tucked under the dwarf’s chin, their limbs tangled in an embrace, he couldn’t help but be reminded of Thorin’s death. He tightened his hold on Thorin, burying his face in Thorin’s chest to hide his tortured expression and to reassure him that Thorin was still here, alive and well. The knowledge that Thorin could yet die and leave him alone ripped at his very heart, leaving him gasping in pain.

 

“Bilbo?” Thorin murmured in concern as he noted the Hobbit’s sudden change but was unable to see beyond Bilbo’s curls at what could possibly be ailing him.

 

Bilbo just shook his head in response, unable to form the words needed to reassure his dwarf that he was fine and did not relinquish his hold. Thorin sighed, tightening his hold on Bilbo in turn and pressing a kiss into his curls whilst rubbing reassuring circles into the small of Bilbo’s back. The embrace keeping all feeling of security and warmth, not turning suffocating in the slightest as Bilbo breathed in Thorin’s scent, smelling the lingering smoke on his clothes and the sun on his skin- the dwarf filling all of his senses.

 

Feeling Thorin’s heart pumping strongly under his ear helped to calm Bilbo’s sudden panic, it’s rhythm a constant reassurance that Bilbo had not been left alone... he still had time, it wasn’t over yet.

 

And yet he couldn’t help but feel that he’d made everything worse by pursuing this. But if he or Thorin was going to lose their lives at the end of this, he just wanted some happiness before the end. He’d lived his entire life living alone after his parents had died and Smaug had left him to steal a mountain. Surely he deserved some happiness despite his crimes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow the fluff in this chapter! Not sure where the plot went but It'll be back next time xD I'd just drafted a really sad chapter for this fic and I think that made me put plot aside for once and have some pure fluffy goodness. Let me know what you think, as it stands, Thorin was implying Bilbo was his one which is the connection they both feel. I was originally going to have their first kiss after Mirkwood but we're now 50k words in about 1/2- 2/3 of the way through so I decided to move things forward, it'll make the Mirkwood scenes more interesting too I think.  
> Can't believe this is now the size of a novel :P and we've still got so far to go! I've written up to chapter 18 and so far we're just over 65k words- madness, we'll be reaching 100k words by the end of this at this rate
> 
> And we've just hit 100+ subscribers, Thank you all for following along ^-^ 
> 
> Next Chapter: Saturday! We enter Mirkwood and it's dark magic puts strain on Bilbo
> 
> Comments and Kudos much appreciated :) 
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	15. The White Hart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and the company traverse through Mirkwood, of course things are worse than they'd expected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTICE: You may have noticed that I have just added a cover to this work (shown in chapter 1) I hope you like it :) let me know what you think x

After a hearty breakfast, the company had packed up, saddled the ponies (or as in Gandalf’s case, his horse) and set off over plains, to a forest Gandalf had called Mirkwood and he hadn’t said anything more about it than that. Bilbo was not reassured by its dreary name, but he had heard Elves lived there; surely it wouldn’t be that bad if such fair folk resided under its canopy?

 

Bilbo was not best pleased he was back on a pony, having enjoyed their brief period of time walking, but at least he hadn’t ended up dangling from the saddle this time around. Thorin had helped him into his saddle without complaint although Bilbo could have sworn he saw a flicker of amusement in the dwarf’s eyes which he had resisted commenting on in favour of ensuring he maintained his seat.

 

His riding had improved a little from his first experiences and so he did not feel so sore when they reached the edge of the forest, forcing them to dismount. As he did so, Bilbo couldn’t help but take notice of the oppressing trees before them. The vegetation was thick, thorned- bushes crowding the forest floor and great streams of vines and ivy clinging to the tree trunks in a possessive embrace. Despite the abundance of life, there was something not right. The tree trunks were too dark, their branches too gnarly and their leaves too deep a shade of green to be healthy. So little light filtered through the canopy above, it was a wonder any life could be supported on the forest floor although the thorns on those bushes did look incredibly oppressive.

 

“This forest seems sick...” Bilbo murmured, more to himself than anyone, but Thorin was then at his side, lacing their fingers together for reassurance as they gazed into the gloom before them.

 

“The Elves are not caring for the forest as they once have done,” Gandalf added, furrowing his bushy eyebrows together, “A dark magic has settled over this place... do not stray from the path, I fear you will not find it again.”

 

“You’re not coming with us?” Bilbo asked, confused as he picked up on the intention in Gandalf’s words. He’d been under the impression the wizard would stay with them for the entirety of the journey. The company was of an equal mind in this matter and were staring in shock up at the wizard, not eager to be left at a point where they were being faced with magic of a foreboding nature. The fact there was a path was not particularly reassuring with Thorin leading them either, Bilbo still hadn’t managed to fathom how the dwarf got lost on the way to Bag-End and twice no less!

 

“I have some matters that require my attention. There is more going on in Middle Earth than this quest. But I shall return to you in a few days time by which point you should have made it out of Mirkwood. Do not enter the mountain without me,” Gandalf said, directing his final words at Thorin who remained as stoic as ever.

 

He watched as Gandalf mounted his horse and rode away, feeling helpless to stop him. Although he had Thorin and was surrounded by a company of very able dwarves, there was something reassuring by having a wizard on your side. After all, without Gandalf, they wouldn’t have survived the trolls or escaped the wargs, Elves and the Goblins. In fact, they would likely not be on the quest at all since Thorin needed the map and key to get into the Mountain, those having been supplied by the wizard.

Still... with Gandalf with them, he may impede Bilbo’s plans to try and find the Elves. He needed to speak with them and yet there was no way the dwarves would willingly allow him to seek their audience, even if he knew how to find them. Once he’d seen signs of their whereabouts, he’d have to sneak off... he could convince the dwarves to let him keep watch and move then... but no, Thorin would want to stay with him and the brief time between watches would not be enough he feared...

 

A kiss was pressed to Bilbo’s temple, Thorin’s beard scratching at his ear which thoroughly snapped him out of his thoughts so that he could appreciate the sensation. “Ready?” Thorin asked him. Bilbo managed a nod in reply, the plans of deception still fresh in his mind, leaving him feeling terrible as Thorin gazed down at him, his blue eyes unbelievably soft. The company around them busied themselves with organising their packs, pointedly not looking at the couple. Mistaking Bilbo’s silence for apprehension in the shadow of Mirkwood, Thorin promised, “Worry not Ghivashel, I shall allow no harm to come to you.”

 

“Ghivashel?” Bilbo asked, in all the Khuzdul he’d heard on the quest, that word he’d missed.

 

Thorin’s cheeks reddened slightly, “It’s a term of endearment. It literally translates to ‘treasure of all treasures’.”

 

Despite his angst, Bilbo found his lips quirking up into a smile as he heard Thorin’s words. Who knew that the stoic, grumpy and rude dwarf he’d met at the start of this journey, who’d been through so much, was actually incredibly sweet? He squeezed Thorin’s hand in appreciation of his words, the dwarf’s answering smile hesitant. Regardless, to see him smile and feel his hand curled around his, made him feel somewhat braver even if the next few days were not going to be easy.

 

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

 

The darkness within the forest did not break in the slightest as they wondered single file, down the narrow path for days on end. The very air they breathed seemed old and cloying, sticking in their throats and making it hard to breathe. The company did not laugh and joke as they used to, the days too suffocating and nights too oppressing, too dark for them to see anything. Occasionally they’d hear noises in the darkness, scurrying and clicking and Bilbo could have sworn he saw eyes at one point, glowing against the inky backdrop, but before he could get a proper look, they’d gone again.

 

They didn’t dare light a fire after their first attempt. On the first night, Bombur had lit a fire to cook dinner and for the company to keep warm. As soon as the wood had caught, bat-like creatures had come flying out of the gloom, flapping at their heads, their sharp nails scratching their scalps. After a few slashes of Dwalin’s axe and Thorin’s sword, they’d fallen down dead. Bombur had quickly stomped the fire out to prevent any more being alerted to their presence and they hadn’t lit another fire after that, being forced to eat their food raw and huddle together for warmth during the night.

 

Thorin held Bilbo close at night, as though afraid to lose him to the surrounding trees. The act had lost all its intimacy as the days stretched onwards, their kisses becoming less frequent and far lighter than their first, the sense of being watched and followed hanging over their movements. Bilbo just held Thorin in turn, reassured by his surrounding warmth and whatever kisses they shared. He was sure that without Thorin to hold him at night, his mind would have lost whatever sanity it had left, paranoia clawing at the fringes of his mind, unsure whether what he saw was just a fragment of his over-active imagination or entirely too real. Even the Heartstone’s warmth had faded slightly, as though the magic of the forest had suppressed its own. Thorin was the only part of those long-nights he could be sure was real, and even then, when he woke at odd points during the night, it took him a few moments of worried fumbling to reassure himself that he wasn’t alone.

 

Their sleep had become light, the slightest noise waking them up. It was mainly due to their increasing lack of food. Their provisions from Beorn had run dangerously low forcing them to ration whatever was left. They’d expected to have been able to find food along the path, berries, rabbits, roots anything... but all berry bushes had long since withered and died, having been smothered by their thorny successors. It pained Bilbo to see the potential for life within the forest crushed beneath the weight of its surrounding flora. They’d tried to eat various roots along the way but they left a bitter taste in their mouths and their stomachs had become racked with pain all through the night.

 

At the memory, Bilbo rubbed his slightly flatter stomach discontentedly, stumbling along the path with Thorin slightly ahead of him, leading the company. He’d lost so much weight on the quest, but only now did it really begin to drain him. He still had no idea how to reach the Elves, having seen no sign of them.

 

Dusk was beginning to settle on the forest once more, they’d need to stop soon or risk losing the path. Thorin stopped suddenly ahead of him, causing Bilbo to almost run into his back.

 

“Thorin? What is it?” he asked, his voice rough from thirst. They’d found no water either, and their water-skins were running low. Thorin didn’t answer and Bilbo moved around him to see what he was staring at.

 

A few paces in front of them stood a white hart. Its large white antlers stretched high above his head, brushing the lower boughs of the surrounding trees, it was a wonder it could support such weight. Bilbo was shocked how calm the stag was as it watched them, his nostrils flaring and breath coming out in white puffs around his darker muzzle. The stag was incredibly beautiful- his fur glowing as though bathed in moonlight and the fur around his neck was far thicker than the rest of body, stretching down from the short white beard which tufted under the stags chin.

 

He blinked his large brown eyes at the transfixed hobbit who hadn’t even noticed the company coming up around him, drawing out their bows and aiming steel tipped arrows at the stag. The stag tensed causing Bilbo to frown, what had startled it? He barely had time to cry out, “ _stop!”_ as arrows whizzed past his ears. All the arrows missed, sticking into the trunks of surrounding trees or simply becoming lost in the gloom. Bilbo quickly grasped Thorin’s arm to stop him notching another arrow but it was too late, the white hart was gone, its tail disappearing into the darkness, leaving them alone. Yavanna save him from the idiocy of dwarves... that had been the first wildlife they’d seen which hadn’t tried to kill them, it wasn’t as though they’d have been able to cook it even if they’d managed to bring it down.

 

The company groaned as they watched their hope of a decent meal slip from their grasp, flopping themselves down on the ground in defeat. Bilbo let go of Thorin’s arm to stare at them exasperatedly but even he could not but feel the hopelessness creep into his brain. They were becoming desperate, they didn’t even know how far they had yet to go, the forest seemed an endless maze. He looked up at the canopy above... if he could just see above the tree line...

 

“Wait here,” he told Thorin blearily who just nodded at him weakly, barely registering that Bilbo had spoken to him.

 

He moved to the nearest tree, fitting his fingers into the rough grooves of the bark to lift himself up off the ground, reaching for the boughs above him. He hadn’t climbed trees for many years, in fact the last time he’d scaled a tree without aid was when he’d watched Smaug fly away, the image of the dragon disappearing into the clouds having stuck in his mind for the longest time. Despite the 30 year gap, it came surprisingly natural to him, having climbed many trees in his youth in the Old Forest.

 

Finally Bilbo’s head broke through the canopy and his face was bathed in the first sunlight he’d felt in days. It warmed him to his very bones, pushing out the cold and heaviness which had set into his limbs. He breathed deeply, filling his lungs with air so rich and fresh it made him almost dizzy in the headiness of it. Gazing around, he saw small spiders clinging to the leaves, chasing bright blue butterflies which fluttered around Bilbo’s head. And it all became too much and he laughed in his hysteria. He hadn’t felt this good since before they’d entered the forest, since Thorin had kissed his temple... Thorin! The thought of the dwarf tugged at his chest, reminding him of where he was and why he was even up here. Clearing his brain, he focussed his attention on the horizon, searching for a break in the trees. And there it was! Not far... a couple days journey at most. Hope burst into life in his chest; they’d be able to escape this forest once and for all!

 

“I can see the edge of the forest!” Bilbo called down to them, expecting to hear shouts of elation at his words but hearing nothing. “Thorin?” he shouted down, worried for the company. Silence greeted his words.

 

Scaling further down the tree, the sounds of the forest suddenly filled his ears once more, as though there had been a barrier between the canopy and the forest below. He could hear shouts and clangs on metal... that wasn’t right. Panicking, he reached in his pocket and slipped on the ring, preparing himself for whatever danger lay below.

 

Gripping tightly to the tree trunk, he slipped further down the tree, allowing him to see the scene below him. He gasped at what he saw. Spiders... giant spiders were attacking the company! Their cries rang out as they turned and slashed down on their hairy bodies, drawing streams of green blood which caused the spiders to snarl and lash out in defence. He had to get down there and help, they were greatly outnumbered!

 

In a frenzy, he jumped down the boughs, almost slipping and falling several times in his haste to help his friends. He jumped from the last branch to the ground, his legs giving out in fatigue, forcing him to throw out his hands to save himself from receiving a face-full of mud and leaves. Wincing as his knees banged against the ground, he had little time to linger on the pain radiating out from his legs before he pushed himself up onto his feet, unsheathing his sword.

 

Next to him, Ori was backing hastily away from a spider, the stones from his sling-shot glancing harmlessly off the beast’s exoskeleton. Not thinking twice, Bilbo leapt forward burying his sword deep into the spider’s back, the exoskeleton resisting at first but then giving way, allowing Bilbo’s sword to run through its flesh as though he was cutting butter. The spider fell to the floor with a high pitched squeal before quivering and stilling. Bilbo wretched his sword from its back, with a spray of blood he narrowly avoided, his chest heaving from the exertion.

 

Ori stared around in shock and confusion, Bilbo completely forgetting he was wearing the ring. He was just about the reveal himself when he froze, finally taking notice of the words the spiders were hissing out.

 

“ _Bite them!”_ One hissed at it at advanced on Dwalin. However it quickly fell silent as the large dwarf’s axe became buried in its head. Judging by the other dwarves’ reactions, Bilbo was the only one who could hear their voices.

 

 _“The others are coming,”_ hissed another to Bilbo’s right, “ _We’ll have them soon!”_ Snapping himself out of his sudden shock, Bilbo stabbed forward, piercing the spider in one of its eyes. Before he could push his sword deeper, the spider reeled away hissing, “ _It stings! It stings!”_ Hit by sudden inspiration, Bilbo stared down his sword. Sting! That was the name he’d give his sword, it fit the sword’s short length and deadly edge perfectly.

 

Thorin pushed forward then, decapitating the spider Bilbo had stabbed, staring round wide eyed at the chaos around him, “Bilbo?!” he called out, unable to see whether his hobbit was safe. More spiders descended from the canopy then, causing Bilbo to become separated from Thorin when he’d just stepped forward to reach him.

 

“Thorin!” Bilbo called out, valiantly trying to reach the dwarf through the mass of writhing bodies. He had to reach him, fear chilling his blood as the spiders leapt at the King. Thorin whirled around at his shout, his face paling in concern when he still couldn’t find Bilbo.

 

The company were fatiguing quickly, the lack of food and water taking its toll on their fighting stamina. Fili and Kili, being the youngest kept most of their stamina but even their chests heaved, sweat running down their necks. Oin was struggling the most, the company’s healer looked all but beat however Gloin was at his side, helping the elderly dwarf from being overrun. In the chaos, the dwarves became scattered, falling off the path and losing each other in the descending darkness, the spiders still pursing them. The sun had sunk below the tree line and limited their vision greatly.

 

“Bilbo!” Thorin called out to him from somewhere in the darkness and Bilbo ran towards his voice, calling out Thorin’s name in reply.

 

Panic welled in his chest when he found himself lost in the dark, feeling around trees and calling each of the dwarves’ names in turn, panicking all the more when none of them answered, silence descending around him.

 

He couldn’t see anything! Bilbo’s eyes searched blindly in the darkness, his breaths coming out in shaky gasps as he considered what to do now. He pulled off the ring, hoping it may improve his vision but the darkness didn’t lift in the slightest. His legs shook in exhaustion, his sword arm faltering and he was forced to slump against the nearest tree. He felt so alone and afraid, the pain in his chest doubling when he realised he didn’t know whether Thorin was dead or alive, he didn’t know how any of the company were, there had been just too many spiders!

 

He curled up into a ball, burying his hands into his hair as he struggled to control himself. Tears pricked at his eyes in frustration when he realised there was nothing he could do, he daren’t call out to the company in fear that the spiders or worse may hear him and he couldn’t try and track them in this darkness. His only hope was to wait until dawn, one of the dwarves may come stumbling by or he may be able to find them in the morning light.

 

Resting his head back against the tree, Bilbo dozed, not able to fully go to sleep but too exhausted to put off sleep completely. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, waiting for someone to find him or dawn to break when he felt something wet and moist touch his cheek.

 

Jumping in surprise, he banged his head against the tree with a thud causing him to cry out in pain and clutch his head as he looked round for the source of the touch. Dawn was slowly filtering through a few gaps in the trees, illuminating the white hart in front of him, making him look like a ghost.

 

Bilbo breathed out a sigh of relief that it was just the stag and slowly got to his feet and sheathing his sword so as to not startle the creature.

 

“Hey,” he called softly, inching closer to the animal. He wasn’t sure why but the sight of the stag filled him with hope, as though his coming was a good omen.

 

Tentatively, Bilbo stretched out a hand to the stag who regarded him through large brown eyes, completely unafraid. Emboldened, Bilbo touched his hand to the stag’s neck, sinking his hand into the warmth of his ruff. He sighed as he ran his fingers through its coat, at least he wasn’t alone in this godforsaken forest any longer. But he still needed to find the others.

 

“Do you know where my friends are?” he asked the stag who blinked back at him. Oh this forest must be really addling with his mind if he was now talking to animals like they could understand! Even if it could, it probably wouldn’t fancy taking him to them after the dwarves tried to kill him.

 

But to his surprise the stag gracefully lowered itself to the ground in front of the hobbit, tucking his legs beneath his body and gesturing with a sweep of his head to his back before staring back at Bilbo with large intelligent eyes. It wanted him to ride on his back? Bilbo hesitated, for all he knew, the stag could take him deep into the forest without him having a hope in all the Valar of finding his way out. But this was his only hope of finding his friends and a way out. Eru knows just how far he’d wondered from the path and where the dwarves had ended up.

 

Carefully, he raised his leg to slip himself onto the stag’s back, burying his hands in the fur of his neck. However, he still lurched forward, eyes popping as the stag jumped to his feet and took off through the forest, not hindered in the slightest by his load. Bilbo ended up wrapping his arms around the stag’s neck, burying half his face into his ruff, to prevent himself from falling.

 

The forest blurred past them, travelling faster than Bilbo had since he’d ridden the eagle Landroval. His stomach lurched at every jump the stag made, over logs and rocks, taking Bilbo deeper into the forest.

 

Eventually the stag slowed, much to Bilbo’s relief, into a graceful walk, his long legs carefully striding through bushes, their thorns leaving him unharmed. Clearly this stag was not normal Bilbo marvelled from his back. The forest stopped suddenly, it clearing away before the forest floor dropped into a small valley through which a river ran. Looking across to the opposite side, Bilbo could see a long bridge ending in a palace built into the woodland. The Elves!

 

The white hart dropped to his knees again, allowing Bilbo to scramble from his back.

 

“Thank you,” Bilbo told it, stroking the stag’s mane one last time before he took off disappearing back into the forest. Bilbo took a moment to wonder at what manner of creature he was before he heard shouts sound from behind him.

 

Turning, he saw the company being led across the bridge by a group of Elves. They looked incredibly angry, covered in spider’s webs and tired but they were all present and alive at least! Relief flooded through him as the knowledge the company and Thorin had not been killed by the spiders. It lightened his chest to see them.

 

Forgetting about his aching limbs and exhaustion, he quickly slipped the ring on, allowing the world around him to fade. He needed to take this chance, not only to save the dwarves and reunite himself with the company but also to confront Thranduil. He needed to work out how to get the Elf on his side and secure his alliance along with that of the men. The next few days and his actions here could well determine the fate of the war to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll let you draw your own conclusions who or what the White Hart is ;) I have my own ideas on that front for this AU and I may expand on that later, I'd be interested in hearing your thoughts though if you have any on the topic
> 
> So we are getting quite close to the long awaited confrontation with Smaug, that will be chapter 20 I believe. Until then, we have the elves and men to deal with. Around chapter 18 I was planning a smut chapter, it will be skippable if that's not your thing and I will upload two chapters at that point (including the smut chapter) to give everyone something to read 
> 
> I skipped the river scene and the fact Bilbo rescues the dwarves in favour of expanding on the White Hart scene and developing that further than what I've seen in other fics so far, I tried to do something different so I hope you all enjoyed it :)
> 
> Next chapter: Bilbo confronts Thranduil and forms a plan of escape
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	16. Dancing between Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo reunites with the dwarves and he confronts Thranduil

Bilbo crept quietly along the Elven halls, trying to find where they had taken Thorin and the company. He’d passed many rooms on his way as well as many guards but had seen no sign of his friends.

 

He’d lost them shortly after sneaking through the closing gate. From what he could tell, the dwarves had been split up and taken deep within the kingdom which made things difficult when it came to following the dwarves through the maze of hallways and stairwells.

 

And now he was well and truly lost- again. Sighing, Bilbo leant against the doorway to a large room, trying to think up a plan of action but getting nowhere. He was too tired, too hungry and exhausted to try anything now. If he could just find somewhere quiet to sleep...

 

“A noble quest is at hand. To reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon,” an unfamiliar voice rang out through the hall, making Bilbo jump. He looked around, finally taking in his surroundings. The large cavernous room was built into the forest, supported by many pillars of oak and ash wood. And in the centre was a throne made of wood, bracketed by the largest antlers Bilbo had ever seen, they clearly belonged to some form of deer but Bilbo could only wonder what kind or how large that creature had been when it was alive.

 

“You seek that which will bestow upon you the right to rule. The Arkenstone...” the voice continued. Bilbo’s eyes followed the noise before finally falling upon the form of a silvery haired Elf, his long robes sweeping along the floor as he completed a circle around a very irritated looking dwarf. Thorin! Bilbo had to suppress a cry of relief and joy in seeing Thorin both alive and well. He desperately wanted to move forwards and touch the dwarf’s hand or shoulder, just to let him know he was alive but he knew Thorin would think he was going mad or the Elf was playing a trick on him. No, he would have to wait until Thorin had finished seeing who Bilbo could only assume was Thranduil, the Elf King of Mirkwood. Perhaps this conversation would give him clues as to how to approach the King later in seeking his help.

 

As though hearing Bilbo’s thoughts, Thranduil said, “There are things that I too desire within the mountain- gems of pure starlight. I offer you my help,” he finished with a slow nod of his head.

 

Oh Thorin please do not screw this up, Bilbo pleaded silently. This could save him an awful lot of hassle later if Thorin just used what little diplomatic skills he had to secure this alliance for him.

 

“I’m listening” Thorin said. Well at least the dwarf was not stubborn enough to refuse to hear Thranduil out.

 

“I will let you go... if you return what is mine when you reclaim the mountain. I give you my word, as one King to another,” Thranduil bargained. That seemed fair, from what Bilbo had heard, there was plenty enough gems and gold in the mountain that surely a few gems of starlight would not be missed.

 

“A deal,” Thorin mocked, turning his back on the Elven King to pace the dais, “And why should I accept the word of _Thranduil_!” Thorin spat, turning to face the King, his expression thunderous. Oh Yavanna... Bilbo thought grimly, this is not going to end well and is going to end with him having his work cut out for him. Thorin continued, “I’ve seen how you treat your friends! We came to you once, starving and homeless... and you turned your back on us. Turned your back on the suffering of _my_ people! Allowed my people to be consumed by dragon fire-”

 

Thranduil swooped down then, his face coming inches away from Thorin’s in an attempt to stare him down. Thorin stared back, his blue eyes full of fury, refusing to back down. “Do not speak to me of dragon fire. I have faced the drakes of the north,” he said and Bilbo watched in horror as half of Thranduil’s face fell away, revealing his burnt flesh, barely covering raw bone beneath. So that’s what Smaug’s fire could now do... a long way from the short bursts he’d released to start fires and keep Bilbo warm when he visited him all those years ago.

 

He forced himself to not look away from the Elf’s face, to know truly what Smaug had become and to rid himself of the notion that when he finally confronted his friend, he was not going to find the young dragon he’d known so long ago. Studying Thranduil’s face, he saw a glimpse of fear in the Elf’s eyes, he masked it beautifully and he doubted Thorin would notice with the ruined flesh to focus on, but it was there, dancing in the corners of his eyes. So Thranduil was afraid of dragons... this was interesting, he could use that knowledge somehow but he knew not how exactly.

 

Thranduil’s face returned to normal and he retreated onto his throne to bear down on the scowling Dwarf King. With a wave of his hand, two guards stepped forward and seized Thorin who resisted against their hold but their combined strength was too much for a singular dwarf. “I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon and he did not listen. You are just like him. Stay here if you will and rot, a hundred years is but a blink in the eyes on an Elf. I can wait,” Thranduil said coldly, watching as Thorin was taken away.

 

Bilbo was torn, he desperately wanted to go with Thorin and let him know he was still alive. But he also needed to find out all that he could about Thranduil and how to win his alliance. He decided that he’d wait a few moments before trailing after the dwarf, he’d already learned much in the past few minutes and he needed to rest.

 

As the room emptied of Thranduil’s guards, leaving the two alone, he saw the King slump in his throne, letting his head fall into one of his hands as he breathed out an exhausted sigh. And in that moment, despite the fact Thranduil looked to be no older than an Elf in his prime, Bilbo could see all the years he’d lived reflected on how exhausted he looked, centuries of war and problems weighing heavy on his shoulders.

 

Having seen enough, Bilbo crept along and exited through the tunnel Thorin had been taken, following the signs and sounds of their movement.

 

Eventually, after walking deep into the Elven halls, he caught up with them. One Elf was in the process of shoving Thorin into his cell whilst the other was rubbing his chin in pain; apparently Thorin had decided to punch one of his captors in an attempt to escape.

 

“Chain one of his hands to the wall, I don’t trust him to behave when we bring his supper later," the injured Elf said in Sindarin which made Thorin darken his glare, not understanding what was being said about him.

 

The other guard shoved Thorin against the wall, surprising the dwarf and winding him. Taking advantage of the dwarf’s state, the Elf moved with surprising swiftness in clasping a manacle around Thorin’s wrist. As Thorin lunged forward at the Elf, the guard moved back, out his reach and Thorin was jerked backwards, landing on the floor as he stared at the manacle around his wrist, leading to a chain held on the wall. Bilbo winced, willing Thorin to stop struggling- he’d break the bones in his wrist at this rate.

 

Whilst the Elves were busy smirking at the fallen King, Bilbo sneaked past them and hid in the shadows of the cell. He’d be able to leave once they brought Thorin his supper, until then he could catch up with Thorin and take the rest he’d been denied.

 

Bilbo watched as the guards shut them both in and locked the door before walking down the corridor. He waited until the sounds of their footsteps were nothing more than a faded echo before pulling off the ring and slipping out of the shadows. Thorin was slumped against the wall, his manacled arm hanging by his side and his face relaxing in exhaustion and defeat. But Bilbo could see the cogs turning in the dwarf’s eyes, still thinking up plans of escape which Bilbo hoped did not include punching any more elves.

 

“Thorin?” Bilbo whispered, trying to keep his voice as low as possible as he moved across the cold floor to reach the dwarf.

 

Thorin jerked in surprise, the chain rattling against the wall. His eyes widened as they fell on Bilbo, “Bilbo? Thank Mahal, I thought we’d left you in the forest! Are you hurt? How did you get in here?” he whispered furiously back, relief filling his expression.

 

“ _Shhh_! I don’t know where the guards have gone but they can’t be far away. I’m fine, tired and bruised but okay. I slipped in when the guards were busy chaining you, I’ve been following you all since you were taken into the kingdom but I lost you for a while. Have your wounds reopened at all?” Bilbo whispered back. Thorin’s wounds had healed nicely despite the darkness over Mirkwood which had allowed Bilbo to remove his stitches. But the new skin was still pink and delicate, a constant risk of tearing apart once more. Bilbo didn’t have to wear bandages on his hands anymore; the care given to them at Beorn’s having sufficed enough to allow them to heal in the fresh air.

 

Thorin shook his head, “I don't think so...” he whispered back, reaching out with his free hand to clasp Bilbo’s, “I was so afraid I’d lost you. When the spiders came, I could hear you but I couldn’t see you. Then we all got lost in the darkness and none of us knew where you’d gone.”

 

Bilbo moved closer, snuggling into the dwarf’s side for warmth and ignoring the smell of sweat and damp clinging to his skin. Neither of them was particularly pleasant in that area right now and despite the fact Thorin needed a bath, it was still Thorin, still his smell under it all which reassured Bilbo more than anything else.

 

“Hush, I’m okay. I’ll sort this out- they don’t know I’m here. Do you know where the others are?”

 

Thorin wrapped an arm around Bilbo, unable to complete the embrace because of his manacled hand but it sufficed for what they needed all the same. “No,” he answered, “I was separated from the others shortly after we were brought in.”

 

“Okay... when they bring your supper, I’ll sneak out and find them and try and find a way to escape,” and confront Thranduil he added silently, pillowing his head on the dwarf’s chest and allowing his eyes to slip close as exhaustion weighed down his limbs.

 

“Sleep Bilbo, I’ll wake you up when I hear them coming,” Thorin assured with a chaste kiss to his brow before resting his bearded cheek on Bilbo’s head.

 

But Bilbo barely felt it, already slipping off into unconsciousness that his exhausted mind chased without hesitation.

 

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

True to his word, Thorin woke Bilbo as he heard footsteps coming down the hall.

 

“Come back to me,” Thorin whispered.

 

“I’ll try and get back to you soon,” Bilbo whispered back, reluctantly extracting himself from Thorin’s hold.

 

Hurriedly pressing one last kiss to Thorin’s lips, pulling away before the kiss could get too hungry from their time apart, Bilbo slipped back into the shadows and slid the ring back onto his finger. The cell greyed around him, the noises of the approaching guards echoing as though heard from along a far distant tunnel.

 

Thorin threw him one last glance, searching the shadows for him before letting his head fall back against the wall, glaring at the door just in time for the guards to wretch it open and enter with a bowl of stew.

 

Quickly and carefully, Bilbo moved out of the open door whilst the Elves slid the bowl along the floor. Even with Thorin chained, they didn’t trust him not to lash out with his free arm.

 

Throwing one last look at Thorin, Bilbo moved down the corridors, retracing his steps back to the throne room and into the entrance hall where he’d begun.

 

So this was where they must have gotten separated and Thorin was taken through the corridor behind him to the throne room. That left the three other corridors in front of him to choose from.

 

Picking one at random, Bilbo move along it looking for any sign of the dwarves and keeping his ears pricked for any sounds of approaching Elves. Whenever an Elf approach, Bilbo flattened himself against the wall, praying that the Elf wouldn’t decide to move closer to the walls or notice the clouds of dust he disturbed in his movements. But the Elves were too wrapped up in their own thoughts to notice that anything was amiss.

 

He wondered aimlessly for what felt like hours, almost losing hope of ever finding the dwarves when he came to the first cell and in it was Fili! He looked tired and angry but he wasn’t chained as Thorin was and showed no signs of visible injury.

 

Checking around for any guards and seeing none, Bilbo pulled off the ring and stepped in front of the bars, “Fili!” Bilbo hissed.

 

Fili looked up in surprise, his face filled with his grin, “Bilbo! We knew you’d be alright! Have you found the others yet?” he whispered.

 

“I’ve found Thorin, he’s fine but they’ve got him chained in a cell in the lower quarters. I’ve not found the others yet, you’re the first one I’ve found,” Bilbo whispered back, throwing glances over his shoulder to make sure they were still alone.

 

Fili moved closer to the bars so that they could speak lower and still hear each other, “That’s good news I guess. I’ll let you go on and find the others but will you pass on to my brother that I’m okay?”

 

“Of course,” Bilbo assented, “I’ll be back soon, just don’t cause any trouble, I don’t want the guard doubling and restricting my movements. I’ll find us a way out.” He moved backwards, ready to slip back into the shadows.

 

Fili nodded in understanding. “Oh and Bilbo!” he hissed after him.

 

Bilbo turned back, “Yes?”

 

“Look after yourself yeah?”

 

Bilbo smiled at the young dwarf’s concern, “Always,” he replied before moving into a shadow and slipping the ring back on, ready to find the rest of the company.

 

In the next few hours, Bilbo managed to locate each dwarf in turn and encourage them to stop trying to break the doors down, it would only serve to injure them and alert the guards. Dwalin had been the most difficult to placate, being the King’s guard he desperately wanted to find Thorin but he’d calmed down somewhat when Bilbo had assured him that Thorin was alive and well.

 

And that was how Bilbo spent his days, ferrying messages between the dwarves and returning a few hours before supper to sleep in Thorin’s cell, both of them needing the contact to keep hold of their sanity as they desperately plotted how to escape.

 

It was exhausting to say the least, his meals were a small compilation of donations from the dwarves and whatever Bilbo dared to steal from the Elves’ kitchen without arousing suspicion. It barely kept him on his feet as he raced through the halls, observing the pattern in the guards changeover and patrols in the hope of finding a weakness, anything that could allow the dwarves to slip by unseen. But he found none, every other corridor had at least one elf stationed at it and Elves moved freely along the corridor, some on patrol, others just moving about the kingdom on their own business.

 

But then, as chance would have it, a week after first arriving in the Elven halls, he overheard a conversation between two guards. In three days time, the Elves would be having a celebration of some kind to which all would be attending, even the guards. Immediately Bilbo’s head began to whirl, they’d be able to leave in just a few days time providing he managed to steal the keys and find a way out first. That meant he’d have to confront Thranduil within the next two days, he had a bare idea of what he was going to say but he was still daunted by the prospect of speaking to the King.

 

His plan of escape was formulated when he’d wondered into the cellar, finding stacks of barrels of wine. They’d be empty in ready for the feast... and then they would have to be disposed of. Looking round, he saw a hatch which opened out into the river below. He watched as the Elves rolled the empty barrels into the river and a plan formed in his mind. It was mad and dangerous... but it was the only option they had when Durin's day was so close.

 

In Thorin’s cell that night, he explained the plan to the King, expecting to hear refusal at the sheer danger it would put them all in. But instead Thorin answered, “It could work... it’s our only chance of escape at any rate. Durin’s day is fast approaching- we have little time to be picky in our method of escape. Looks like Gandalf was not mistaken in choosing you as our Burglar,” Thorin teased.

 

“Don’t thank me yet... if we get caught, I doubt we’ll have another opportunity until Gandalf finds us and then it'll be too late,” Bilbo whispered against the dwarf’s shoulder where he’d rested his head.

 

Thorin pulled him up for a kiss before replying, “I have utmost faith in you Bilbo. I was wrong in my judgement in you once, never again,” he swore. And Bilbo felt a twinge of guilt at his words, would Thorin still think that in the weeks to come? They were so close to the mountain now, so close to Smaug and the threat of having his secrets revealed.

 

To hide his conflicted expression, he kissed Thorin again, this time with more hunger, needing to get as close to the dwarf as he could to will away his tortured feelings. Thorin grunted in surprise at Bilbo’s sudden interest but kissed him back with equal hunger, their lips moving in sync, moving his hand up Bilbo’s back to bury his hand in the hobbit’s curls. The frustration of being unable to move his other hand being conveyed in the possessive way he claimed Bilbo’s lips, wanting at least some way to get closer to his hobbit. But Bilbo didn’t mind, he could only think about the feeling of Thorin’s hair in his hands, the feel of warmth that spread through his chest at every response Thorin gave him.

 

Bilbo hoped Thorin would remember this should he find out about his parenthood to Smaug, that he would not forget what these moments meant to them both, that he cared for Thorin and that wouldn’t change. He just wanted Thorin alive and safe and well.

 

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

 

It was the day before the dwarves would have to escape and Bilbo was out of time. He’d have to confront Thranduil today and hope that it was enough to secure his alliance.

 

He couldn’t let Thranduil see him though, that was imperative, if the Elf saw him, the ruse would be up and he’d be thrown in the cells along with the dwarves. Thus ending their plans of escape and any hope he had of reaching the mountain in time for Durin’s day and preventing a war.

 

Crouching in the shadows of Thranduil’s throne room, he watched court draw to a close. After watching the Elf’s daily routine for over a week, Bilbo had learned that Thranduil was always left alone after court, even the guards were dismissed, which gave Bilbo the precious minutes he’d need.

 

As the last Elf exited the room, Bilbo stepped forward enough to see the King upon his throne. The King looked exhausted, today’s court had been particularly heavy in news from the forest and men. Spiders were taking over more parts of the forest and were often seen creeping into Woodlandale- the men were asking for Thranduil to deal with the problem but the Elf was reluctant to allow his people out of the safe confines of his kingdom. It appeared that Thranduil was looking to avoid a battle at all costs, even if it meant restricting the boundaries of his own kingdom. Bilbo was going to have to be very persuasive if he was going to move this Elf outside of the safe confines of his keep.

 

Taking a deep breath, he called out, “Greetings King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm!” before moving silently to a different part of the room. He hoped that if he kept moving in between speaking, he would be able to disorientate the Elf and prevent him from calling his guards out of fear he was simply losing his mind.

 

Thranduil immediately sat up on his throne, alert and wide eyes searching everywhere for the intruder, “Who’s there? Show yourself!” he commanded, his voice radiating power and authority.

 

“I am he who walks unseen,” Bilbo replied simply before moving off to stand by the throne.

 

“A fitting title it would seem... why are you in my hall? Do you wish to save your dwarvish friends?” Thranduil stood then, towering over Bilbo who took a few steps back, he’d need time to move after his next comment.

 

“I merely wish to speak with you oh King regarding the safety of your kingdom and Middle Earth,” Bilbo said, moving to the opposite side of the room when Thranduil whirled around to face him. “I do not know of any dwarves, their interests fail to concern me,” he lied smoothly.

 

“Is that a threat?” Thranduil asked, his voice lowering dangerously in a threat of his own.

 

“I assure you that I wish you no harm. If I did you would already be dead and you would never see me coming,” Bilbo replied calmly.

 

“ _What_ are you?” Thranduil asked cautiously, his eyes squinting suspiciously as he continued to search for Bilbo.

 

Bilbo had been hoping he’d ask this, and now he hoped that Thranduil’s reaction would not stop him from hearing Bilbo out, “What I am is of little consequence but if it pleases your grace, I am Drakunfren,” raising his voice a little to convey false confidence. He still had no idea what the title meant but he supposed it held a power of some kind which linked him with the dragons whom Thranduil feared.

 

The blood drained from Thranduil’s face, “You lie,” he hissed, “There has not been a Drakunfren for centuries!”

 

“Why would I lie? I don’t need my title to ask of you what I need.”

 

“And what is it you need _Drakunfren_?” Thranduil mocked, but Bilbo could see that he’d caught the King off-guard, he didn’t know what to do. His doubt was enough to give Bilbo an opportunity to speak with him, not risking the consequences of turning Bilbo away if he was what he said he was, although Bilbo was not sure what those would be.

 

“Your word,” Bilbo replied simply.

 

“My word?”

 

“Yes, a war is coming- a war which will end in the deaths of thousands including your kin unless you help me. I need your word that you will come when I call for you and that you will rouse the men of Woodlandale to fight with you.”

 

“And why should I throw away the lives of my kin in a war that does not concern me?”

 

“This war concerns all the races of Middle Earth, not just you. If you do not come, the fall of your kingdom will be on you and no-one else. You have seen your kingdom grow sick, and it will only become worse and spread. You will not be safe within your wooden walls,” Bilbo said with pity seeping into his tone.

 

“You say you do not threaten me Drakunfren and yet you are doing just that!”

 

“And I repeat, I am not threatening you, merely giving you a glimpse into the future that will pass should you not help me. I am but a messenger of Lord Irmo in this matter.”

 

“Do you expect me to just take your word for this? You walk unseen and I can sense a darker magic upon you which could be your Drakunfren magic but I suspect a trick to bring down my people,” Thranduil hissed.

 

“Aye, I could be lying. But are you willing to risk it? ...To risk the lives of your people and the survival of your kingdom? All you need to do is come when I call, you and your army, and victory will be assured. This is the time to set aside petty differences and past wrongs and unite against the evil of Middle Earth.” Oh this elf was really starting to try his patience but Bilbo had known this wasn’t going to be easy.

 

Thranduil was silent as he processed Bilbo’s words, “And what do I get out of this Drakunfren?”

 

“I would have thought your life and your future would be enough King. But if you insist on payment... I am able to get inside Erebor and I shall procure for you the gems you so desire,” he bargained.

 

“That I can believe...” Thranduil mused. Why did he believe he could get into the mountain and get the gems and nothing else he’d said? “You have yourself a deal Drakunfren. Call for me and I shall come.”

 

That had gone far better than expected... “With your army?” he asked for clarification.

 

“With my army,” Thranduil assured with a bow of his head.

 

“And will you bring the men to fight as well?”

 

“Why do you need the men? They are few in number and shall do nothing to turn the tides of war,” Thranduil asked, elegant eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

 

“Regardless, they must be there,” Bilbo insisted.

 

“Fine... if I am able to encourage them to honour our alliance with them after they have barely recovered from the dragon’s attack then I shall march with them,” Thranduil said, nodding his head.

 

“Thank you King Thranduil. I shall be passing through Woodlandale on my way to the mountain so I shall speak to whoever governs their town.”

 

“That would be the Master of Woodlandale, a selfish and greedy man but you may be able to buy him. I advise you to go by a different name though- they won’t take kindly to it if they know what it means.”

 

“I thank you for your advice. Fear not, I go by many names. May we meet again in better times King Thranduil but I fear war will be upon us when that day comes. Until then, look to caring for your forest, the life there sleeps but from the darkness it may yet be woken again,” Bilbo finished, moving to exit the hall and return to his friends.

 

“I do not appreciate being told how to run my kingdom Drakunfren but I will honour my word if you honour yours,” Thranduil said, sitting back onto his throne.

 

And with that, Bilbo slipped back through the corridor heading to Thorin’s cell, looking back to make sure he wasn’t being followed before allowing himself to lean against the wall and take deep breaths to calm his rush of adrenaline in having succeeded. Now he just had to rely on Thranduil keeping his word, but judging by the King’s fear of him, he would not dare go back on his word.

 

But the question was why did Thranduil fear him? What did his title mean if it could inspire such fear? Bilbo wasn’t happy he’d had to use fear tactics but this was war, he didn’t have time to win the Elf round with flattery and kind words.

 

The pieces were coming together for the war to come; he hoped that his efforts would not be in vain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter, I think the image of Bilbo walking invisible round Thranduil's throne room and confusing the poor Elf just really amused me. As always, I'd be interested to hear your thoughts!
> 
> You may have noticed, neither Legolas nor Tauriel have made an appearance, that is because in terms of the events in Mirkwood and Woodlandale (Lake Town), I'm sticking closer to the events of the book since neither character is going to add anything to this AU. Legolas may make an appearance in a sequel, if there's interest in one (I'll gather a consensus at the end of this story) but Tauriel won't be in this one (sorry any Tauriel or Kili/Tauriel fans- it's a relationship I don't mind but don't particularly ship plus I don't like love triangles with the Legolas thing too :P)
> 
> Clear your calenders guys, chapter 20, the confrontation with Smaug, is coming on 19/07/2015! I've just written it and bloody hell, what a chapter xP needed a lie down after that
> 
> Next chapter: The dwarves escape and we reach Woodlandale
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	17. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and the dwarves escape and they seek refuge in Woodlandale

All was quiet as Bilbo slipped down the hall to the cellars. The feast had begun upstairs which would leave all rooms of the lower halls empty for a brief period of time. He knew, from overheard conversations, that a few elves would be sent down shortly to remove the empty barrels and dump them in the river where they would be reclaimed by the men of Woodlandale.

 

Bilbo had to steal the keys, free all the dwarves from their cells, move the thirteen of them to the cellars and secure them all in barrels in that short window. He was going to have to work fast if they were going to avoid detection and he was not confident in some of the dwarves’ abilities in stealth, their boots made them incredibly heavy footed and clumsy but Bilbo just hoped that the feast was loud enough and far enough away that their movements could not be heard.

 

Even though he was wearing his ring, he was incredibly cautious, with the lower halls so quiet, any lingering elves would be able to hear the slightest movement. Peering round the corner, he checked that the cellar was empty before moving towards the rack of spare keys hung on the wall. Picking the one that looked to be the one for the dwarves’ cells, he’d seen it enough times in the past week to know what that key looked like all too well, he slipped it into his pocket so it did not jingle and he retraced his steps to where the first of the dwarves was waiting to be freed.

 

The company had been briefed the previous night of their plan of escape but Bilbo had withheld most of the details, he knew that if they knew they’d be escaping in barrels, they would likely grumble and protest something fierce. He needed them to have their confidence in him, at least until they reached the cellars where they should be deep enough for their protests to not be heard.

 

He first freed Balin who had given his stiff knees a stretch before following Bilbo down the halls to the other dwarves. They didn’t say anything, they couldn’t risk the noise and Bilbo felt a great deal more nervous without having the security his ring offered but the company did not know of his ring yet, they still believed him to be a master of stealth to have wondered around Thranduil’s hall undetected for over a week.

 

Each of the dwarves had had to contain themselves as they were reunited with each other, showing their affection in hugs and expressions rather than words. Fili and Kili had embraced each other tightly once Kili had been released from his cell, often they’d asked Bilbo to smuggle one of them into the other’s cell, even if it was just for a few hours, but Bilbo had not been willing to risk it, any disturbance would put their plans of escape on hold. Balin and Dwalin had banged foreheads although with less force than they had when Bilbo had first met him. It still made him wince to see the act although he knew it didn’t hurt them, he was just thankful no-one had tried to do the same to him.

 

When Bilbo finally reached the last cell, Thorin’s cell, he had thirteen dirty and very excited dwarves following after him. But they looked healthier than they had done a few days previous, their beards and braids were a mess, as were their clothes but a spark of hope now glinted in their eyes and lightened their steps, each of them throwing appreciative looks at Bilbo and gave the hobbit a few pats on the shoulder in encouragement, to let him know that they were with him and knew what Bilbo had had to endure over the past week for them.

 

Thorin looked up when Bilbo unlocked his cell and a small smile lifted his features when he saw his burglar and company waiting, loyally, for their King.

 

Bilbo moved forwards to unlock the cuff on Thorin’s wrist, relieved to finally be able to remove it. It had pained Bilbo to see Thorin restrained so, and watch as red welts and scabs appeared across his wrist where the manacle had rubbed away his skin. He heard Dwalin grumble discontentedly when he saw what the Elves had done to him, but he thankfully made no more noise than that, his rant could wait.

 

The lock clicked and the cuff fell away to the floor, allowing Thorin to rub the sore flesh before bracing himself against the wall and slowly getting to his feet. Unlike the other dwarves, Thorin had not had the freedom to move about his cell and his legs had become weak and stiff from lack of use.

 

Bilbo placed a hand on Thorin’s shoulder to let him know that he was there for support should he need it. Thorin looked at him, his blue eyes soft as he nodded at Bilbo in thanks, words of praise and adoration would have to wait until they were safely away. But Bilbo could wait, he had had his patience tested so much over the past week and throughout the entirety of his quest he had patience in spades.

 

The company parted the allow Bilbo and Thorin through, each of them nodding at their King in acknowledgement, relieved smiles tugging at their lips to know that their leader was still strong and with them. Bilbo was still overwhelmed by the loyalty and devotion each of them expressed towards Thorin, not just as their King and their leader, but also as one of their kin. They didn’t laugh and joke with Thorin as they did with their family, but they’d been through a lot together in the last ten years especially, Thorin having led them through it all. And now, each of them could feel how close the Mountain was, how close they were to reclaiming their home which they’d fought so hard for.

 

They all remained silent as Bilbo led them into the cellar to where the empty barrels were lined up and waiting.

 

Taking a deep breath, Bilbo faced the company, whispering out, “Our only route of escape is in these barrels, we don’t have time to find another and we don’t have time to dawdle so please clamber in, quick as you please.”

 

All the dwarves, except Thorin, frowned at him, casting looks between him and the barrels as though Bilbo was mad.

 

“We’ll surely be battered and broken by the time we wash up,” Dwalin grumbled.

 

Even Balin didn’t look happy, “What about air holes?”

 

“They’ll catch us for sure,” Gloin said dismayed.

 

Bilbo crossed his arms in exasperation, if they didn’t get in those barrels soon, the elves would come and find him and thirteen dwarves arguing in their cellar. “Fine- back to your cells with you then. I’ll lock you back in and you can find your own method of escape which will no doubt be far past Durin’s day which is tomorrow let me remind you.”

 

“Do as he says,” Thorin whispered to them all, supporting Bilbo who threw him a grateful glance.

 

That did it for the dwarves, in the face of being forced back into those dank cells and defying Thorin’s orders, they made their way over to their barrels. Gingerly, they all clambered in, some of them having a tighter fit than others. Dwalin’s broad shoulders and Bombur’s round belly tested the barrels to their limits but thankfully they managed to clamber in and duck their heads down for Bilbo to firmly place the lids on. He had to make more noise than he was comfortable with to get them all sealed in but he didn’t have much choice in the matter lest all the dwarves fall out when they were rolled into the river.

 

Thorin was the last one to get into a barrel, reluctant to leave Bilbo again. As Thorin lowered himself into his barrel, Bilbo moved forward to secure him in and he paused.

 

“What about you?” he asked, eyebrow raised. Bilbo hadn’t really thought about how he was going to escape. How could he have missed such a fundamental part of their plan? He didn’t have any way of hiding himself in a barrel. But he couldn’t tell Thorin that, he knew that if the dwarf knew that he didn’t have an escape plan for himself then Thorin would refuse to leave him and that would jeopardise any plans that involved Bilbo using his ring.

 

“I’m sorted. I’ll follow you all down after. Don’t worry,” he whispered in reply, pulling Thorin down for a kiss, conveying what he hoped was reassurance. It distracted Thorin nonetheless and the dwarf’s hand came to rest on the back of Bilbo’s neck, urging him closer.

 

They were forced to break off the kiss when they heard fast approaching footsteps and laughter coming from the end of the corridor. The Elves were coming!

 

Thorin gave Bilbo one last worried look before he ducked his head and allowed Bilbo to close the barrel on him. Quickly, Bilbo stepped back behind the barrels and slipped on his ring, just in time for the three Elves entering.

 

“Which ones are going to the men?” one asked, his voice slightly slurred from wine drinking.

 

“All of them. They’re all empty,” the other replied and Bilbo watched as they opened the trap door and rolled the empty and dwarf filled barrels over the edge and into the water.

 

One of them grunted in the exertion, “Are you sure all these are empty? They feel awfully heavy! We should check them, just in case. I’d hate to throw away good wine.”

 

Please don’t open the barrels, Bilbo prayed silently, please just leave them alone.

 

He breathed a sigh of relief when the first one replied, “More like you’re full of wine. Let’s get this over with and get back to the feast.”

 

Now that the dwarves’ safety was assured, Bilbo looked around panicking for his own. How was he going to escape? He was quickly running out of time as the last of the barrels were being rolled forward to be released through the trapdoor. The room was just filled with a table and chairs and barrels of wine, nothing which would help in an escape.

 

There was only one thing for it. As the last barrel was rolled through the trapdoor, Bilbo sucked in a deep breath and threw himself down after it, hoping he landed in water and not on some unforeseen rocks.

 

Darkness closed around him and then he landed in the bitterly cold water. He resisted the urge to gasp at the sudden change in temperature, if he did water would have flooded his lungs and he would have drowned. The freezing cold lanced through his clothes, biting at his flesh and causing his heart to hammer erratically.

 

The water dragged at his limbs but he had to fight it, he was completely submerged but he had to find to surface again and something to hold onto. To find the surface, he opened his eyes, the water stung but he forced them to stay open, looking for any light which would indicate the direction of the surface.

 

Small beams of light filtered down above him and he kicked his limbs to fight towards it, his head breaking the surface of the water with a loud and shuddering gasp for air. He drank the air down, his burning lungs swelling in relief.

 

Shaking the hair out of his eyes, he looked around for a float and saw a barrel bob like a cork next to him. He swam towards it, and threw himself onto it to cling on for dear life. Hobbits were not strong swimmers and drowning was always a risk for them, especially for young and adventurous faunts.

 

The barrels were dragged in the current out of the cave and into the fresh air. The sun was slowly sinking on the horizon, indicating that afternoon was coming to a close for evening. But Bilbo did not feel the warmth of the sun, he was still wearing the ring and the water stripped any warmth he still held from his body, leaving him shivering against the barrel.

 

He was exhausted, his body malnourished and weak from a week of staying in Thranduil’s hall, but he clung on all the same, forcing his small fingers to find whatever purchace they could on the barrel’s ridges. He could feel splinters digging into his palms but he ignored them as best he could and soon they stopped being painful, his hands becoming dangerously numb and turning a worryingly strange shade of blue.

 

Time had little meaning when he was constantly alert, fighting against the pull of the current and having to hold his breath every time the barrel rolled, forcing him into the water again, over and over. Bilbo couldn’t stop at least some water getting into his lungs, in the rapids the barrel rolled and changed so quickly, he sometimes didn’t have time to close his mouth and hold his breath. He coughed up the water as best he could, trying not to take on any more in his attempt to do so. The water tasted awful, muddy and full of grit which had been stirred up from the riverbed.

 

He held onto thoughts of his warm bed and hearth as though to think of them would shift the cold out of his bones. But there was little he could do other than wait for this hellish journey to end.

 

Finally, the current slowed and the barrels were pulled towards a gravely beach where they rolled ashore. Bilbo was reluctant to let go of his barrel, afraid that if he did, some unseen wave would force him back into the water and drown him.

 

But he knew the dwarves would need him in order to get out and so let go of his barrel, falling onto his hands and knees in the shallow pool of water he’d been washed into. His head spun and his limbs were numb but he forced himself to get to his feet. On his first attempt to stand, he immediately fell down again, falling back into the water and cutting his arm on a sharp stone. It didn’t hurt though and perhaps that should have worried him, but he was focused on releasing the dwarves and he attempted to stand once more, finally being able to steady himself on his feet.

 

He pulled off his ring and blinked at the sudden colour that flooded his vision before moving to the first barrel. Using Sting, he pried the lid off to reveal a very green looking Ori who slumped out of the barrel. Bilbo allowed the dwarf to sort himself out before moving to the next barrel and the next, working on autopilot to free the dwarves from their wooden prisons.

 

The company helped him once they had got over their nausea although Dwalin was still throwing up the contents of his stomach into the river even when the last dwarf had been freed by Bilbo, that being Oin.

 

As his job was finished, the exhaustion that Bilbo had pushed back finally overwhelmed him and he slumped onto the ground, letting his bottom fall into the shallow water.

 

“Bilbo!” Thorin called to him from where he had been released from his barrel by Nori.

 

Bilbo blinked up at him as the dwarf knelt down next to him, taking his hands between both of Thorin’s warm ones. Yavanna above, Thorin was so warm! He moved closer to Thorin, leaning on the dwarf who wrapped his arms around him, taking in the warmth which rolled out of Thorin in waves.

 

“Mahal Bilbo, you’re freezing! When you said you were following us I didn’t realise you’d be swimming down!” Thorin cried. Bilbo didn’t answer him to tell him that he’d been clinging to a barrel, he was _so tired..._ he felt his eyes slipping closed in exhaustion and Thorin shook him to force his eyes back open. “You’ve got to stay awake, Bilbo. You can’t sleep when you’re this cold!”

 

Bilbo felt Thorin’s arms around him tighten and lift him out of the water. Ordinarily, he would protest to being carried around like a faunt but Thorin was so warm he was loathe to lose the warmth and contact he offered.

 

Thorin lowered him down on a dry stretch of the river bank but kept his arms around him, rubbing Bilbo’s arms in an attempt to get more warmth into them.

 

“Dammit Bilbo, your arm’s bleeding! Oin? Please will you look at this? Bilbo’s hurt,” Thorin asked the healer who took Bilbo’s arm to check the wound.

 

Bilbo turned to watch the healer and saw the company watching the three of them, worry etched on their faces, having replaced their nausea and their own discomfort. He was touched that they felt such concern for him and treated him like one of their kin.

 

“It’ll need disinfecting and stitching,” Oin said, “But I haven’t got any of my supplies, the blasted Elves took them when we arrived.”

 

Thorin cursed under his breath, “We’ll have to make for Woodlandale and hope that they’ll be willing to spare us some supplies and weapons in exchange for what little gold we still have.”

 

Warmth had begun to seep back into Bilbo’s body whilst they’d been sat there and he feeling was returning to his arms and legs, making his cut smart something terrible.

 

“How far is it?” he whispered, his voice rough from coughing up half the river.

 

“Shouldn’t be more than a half hour walk,” Thorin answered, not ceasing in his attempts to give Bilbo more of his heat.

 

Bilbo nodded in understanding, “I can walk,” he said, pushing forward whatever confidence he was able.

 

Thorin frowned at him all the same, “Are you sure? Your colour is returning but you still look awful Bilbo. We could take turns carrying you,” he offered and the company nodded around him in agreement. But Bilbo would not face the humiliation of being carried in front of the big-folk, they already thought hobbits weak enough as it was.

 

Bilbo snorted, “You don’t look so hot yourself your majesty,” he said, throwing Thorin an amused smile, “No thank you, I appreciate the gesture but I can walk,” and he demonstrated by moving out of Thorin’s arms and getting to his feet.

 

However, his head felt dangerously light and he swayed on his feet. He probably would have fallen if Thorin had not caught him, steadying him on his feet, “At least let me support you on the way.”

 

Bilbo nodded his assent and Thorin pulled him into his side, allowing Bilbo to lean on him and wrap an arm around the dwarf’s waist.

 

They both took unsteady steps forward, each trying to match the stride of the other which was challenging because Thorin’s legs were annoyingly so much longer than Bilbo’s. Still, they eventually found a pace which worked for them both as they made their way across the fields to Woodlandale, the company following behind them.

 

By the time they reached the gates of Woodlandale, dusk had settled across the landscape.

 

Thorin released an arm from around Bilbo to bang a fist on the gate, moving his other hand to the small of his back. A slit opened after a moment to reveal an elderly man who looked down at them, eyes widening in shock to find thirteen dwarves and a hobbit on his doorstep.

 

“Who goes there?” he cried, “What do you want?” He was slightly afraid of them Bilbo noted, it seems they were very suspicious of strangers.

 

“I am Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Mountain!” Thorin declared impressively, his regality showing through his messy hair and filthy clothes. “This is my company. We seek audience with the Master of this town.”

 

The gatekeeper hesitated, clearly not used to having lost Kings turning up and demanding entry. But then he pulled open the door, allowing them to file inside before he closed it again.

 

“I’ll ask yous all to stick with me whilst I take you to his master’s house at the centre of town. Follow me,” he rasped, leading them slowly through town.

 

Doors opened and heads peered out of windows as they walked past making Bilbo feel incredibly self-conscious. He pressed closer to Thorin, needing the security of his dwarf against him even if he wasn’t holding him anymore. Some people even followed them, muttering to each other as they walked down the streets with them to the Master’s house.

 

When they reached a very tall and grand building, the gatekeeper left them at the bottom of the steps to knock on the door, stepping back to wait for the answer.

 

After a few minutes, a greasy haired man opened the door slightly, peering out at the large crowd gathering in the town square.

 

“What’s this? The Master’s having his dinner! What do you want?” he growled out.

 

“Forgive us Alfred but these here dwarves have demanded audience with the Master,” the gatekeeper answered for them.

 

A portly man appeared round Alfred then, pushing his butler aside to gaze down at the company.

 

Thorin stepped forward then and Bilbo released him so that he could address the Master, “I am Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror! I have returned to claim what is mine. We require food, weapons and aid before we continue on our journey. If you help us, all shall benefit from the wealth of the mountain! You can rebuild Dale and you shall never have to suffer the spiders of Mirkwood. You can take back that which was wrongfully taken from you!” Thorin shouted to all the surrounding people as well as the Master who looked stunned at Thorin’s words.

 

The crowd erupted in cheers to Bilbo’s surprise, crying out praise to the King, declaring him a saviour. The issues the town faced must be great indeed if they clutched at Thorin’s words so readily, Bilbo mused. If they stood with them on this, Bilbo need not do anything more to secure their alliance, he could be confident that they’d march when Thranduil and himself called for them. If they wanted to benefit from the Mountain then they would have to stand with them in the upcoming war. Bilbo suspected that it would not be too far into the future, until then he had Smaug to contend with, which he was bitterly reminded of when a man pushed his way through the crowd.

 

“Have you all forgotten what lies in the mountain?!” the man shouted. He was quite tall and looked neither poor nor rich and his beard was cropped short. He wore a long brown coat and on his back was slung a quiver of arrows and a longbow. Now that he stepped into the light, Bilbo could see that a long red scar ran down the side of his face. Bilbo’s stomach flipped when he realised that that was a remnant of Smaug’s attack on Dale, seeing it made the events of the past feel all the more real.

 

The crowd had fallen silent at his words. All faces now turned to the stranger, including Thorin’s whose had darkened somewhat at having been opposed. “And who are you, Bowman?” Thorin asked, his voice low.

 

“My name is Bard,” the man answered confidently, “I was there when the dragon destroyed our city. I was there when thousands of our people died, including my wife and the mother to my three children. I stood against the dragon and-”

 

“And you failed,” The Master added, “Every black arrow missed its mark, again and again. Our last hope lay with you and you failed to kill the beast!” he mocked.

 

“Not every arrow,” Bilbo heard Bard mutter under his breath before adding louder, “Aye, that I did. But that dragon also stood against a whole dwarven army and yet he went unbeaten.” Thorin stiffened at that, Bilbo noted. Bard addressed his final words at Thorin then, “If you awaken that beast you will destroy us all. You have no right, _no right,_ to enter that mountain!”

 

The crowd muttered discontentedly at his words, some clearly casting their minds back to the dark days during and after the dragon’s attack. Bilbo admired Bard’s courage but they were losing them- clearly Bard was well respected in the town.

 

“I have the only right,” Thorin countered.

 

“Well... we don’t know you, who here can vouch for your character?” Alfred asked the crowd.

 

Bilbo knew he had to do something then, he needed the people on their side. Stepping forward, he said, “I can!” The crowd turned to him, some having to search for the source of the small hobbit who had spoken out. “I have travelled far with these dwarves, and if Thorin Oakenshield gives his word then he will keep it!” he said confidently, his eyes locked onto Thorin’s.

 

The crowd cheered around him, clinging back onto the hope his words offered. He’d won them back and Bard cursed next to him. But he didn’t really notice them, what he did notice was the look Thorin gave him. His eyes had softened tremendously and he bowed his head at Bilbo, conveying silent thanks and appreciation for his words. But something had changed in the dwarf’s eyes, something far beyond the adoration that Bilbo had previously seen and he wished he could have Thorin look at him like that always.

 

They were ushered into the Master’s house then and Thorin went with the Master, forcing the man to bend down so that Thorin could ask something of him. The man pulled away and nodded his assent.

 

Thorin dropped back to talk with Bilbo, and offered him a warm smile as he waved Oin over. “The Master has allowed us the use of his guest bedrooms and will give us the supplies we need. I need you to go to the room and allow Oin to tend to that arm whilst I talk with the men and organise the supplies for the trip tomorrow. I wish I could give you more time to recover,” he said regretfully.

 

Bilbo wanted to stay with Thorin, but he knew that his arm needed tending to before infection set in, if it hadn’t already. He didn’t feel as tired as he did earlier though, some strength had seeped back into his limbs at least.

 

He nodded in understanding and Thorin stepped closer to press a kiss to his brow, “I’ll be up later to check on you,” he promised in a low voice before leaving Bilbo with Oin to join the company and the master.

 

Bilbo and Oin followed one of the Master’s servants up to one of the bedrooms which had been set aside for them. In his walk, he became very conscious of the fact that tomorrow they would be walking the last leg of the journey to Erebor and then he would have to confront Smaug. He didn’t know what he was going to say, what do you say to a long lost friend who has committed such atrocities?

 

And this would also be his last night with Thorin, in the shadow of the mountain, before chaos rained down on them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter (out now): Will include smut so skip to chapter 19, which will be published in a couple of days, if that's not your thing. I fancied giving everyone something to read and if you're reading both of these then you're just doubly lucky ;)  
> It will be Thorin and Bilbo's last night together in the shadow of the mountain and everything they will be facing in the days to come  
> Chapter 19: The company and Bilbo finish their preparations and leave early to travel to the Lonely Mountain
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	18. In the Shadow of the Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Bilbo spend one last night together
> 
>  
> 
> SMUT WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER- not incredibly explicit - MOVE TO CHAPTER 19 IF THIS IS NOT YOUR THING- BEING PUBLISHED ON FRIDAY

After Oin had finished stitching and bandaging the cut on his arm as well as tend to the scabs on his hands, Bilbo had allowed the dwarf to return to the party downstairs whilst he took some time to recover from the day’s activities.

 

He felt very tired and yet he didn’t think he’d be able to go to sleep even if he tried with everything which loomed over him in the proximity of the mountain and Smaug. It made him feel awfully tense which did nothing but irritate his cut and the bruises he’d sustained. Perhaps a bath would help him relax enough to sleep the night through.

 

Bilbo walked into the adjoining bathroom and turned on the taps on the bath to allow it to fill with steaming, hot water which would no doubt relieve the knots in his back and cleanse the grime from his skin. The bath was incredibly large, easily four times larger than a typical hobbit bath and Bilbo worried that if he fell asleep in the bath, he could easily drown within its depths, water today had not been particularly kind to him after all. 

 

To distract himself from his slightly irrational concerns of drowning, he lifted his hands to inspect the scars on his palms. Over the course of the journey, the burn scars he’d started with had diminished greatly, now just faint red marks which had once been angry and shiny. He traced them with his fingers, remembering all those years ago when he’d found Smaug’s egg and raised the young dragonling. The fading of the scars was allowing him to let go of the notions that when he entered that mountain, he’d just be reuniting with an old friend, he wouldn’t- he would be facing a being who he’d just shared a brief period of his life with, but those months had been precious nonetheless. The fading reminded him that that time, like these scars had passed.

 

He was pulled out of his thoughts when two arms snaked around him, capturing his wrists in their gentle hold and smoothing their thumbs across the scars on his palms. Bilbo had tensed initially in surprise but he recognised the ring on the finger as belonging to Thorin and relaxed considerably in the dwarf’s hold.

 

“Good evening,” Bilbo said over his shoulder as Thorin’s breath tickled his neck, making him shiver slightly.

 

“Hmm it is,” Thorin murmured, resting his chin on Bilbo’s shoulder to press their cheeks together.

 

“Shouldn’t you be at the party?” Bilbo asked him, although he was secretly glad that he wasn’t.

 

“They’ve drunk enough wine to not miss me. The company is there to keep them entertained and give them a party they won’t forget,” Thorin replied.

 

“Ah yes, I don’t think I can survive another dwarven party after your company practically destroyed my smial,” Bilbo said, struggling to keep an eye on the slowly filling bath when he had Thorin wrapped around him.

 

“The men seem to be enjoying their antics; they’ve not forgotten the legendary dwarven parties. In any case, I missed you, I feel like I haven’t seen you all week,” Thorin murmured into the crook of his neck, the feel of his beard there was entirely too distracting and Bilbo had to think over Thorin’s words several times over before coming up with a reply.

 

“I’ve been sleeping on your shoulder every night,” Bilbo replied, turning his head slightly to brush his lips against Thorin’s brow.

 

“Aye, but you were asleep for all that time. I’ve missed speaking to you, hearing your stories and I’ve missed the feel of you beneath my touch,” Thorin said and Bilbo was about to retort when Thorin then pressed a kiss to his neck and all discernible thought left him in the sensation of Thorin’s lips along the line of his neck, allowing his eyes to slip close.

 

He hummed appreciatively; lacing his fingers with Thorin’s against his belly and tilted his head to allow Thorin more access. Thorin, obviously pleased by the reaction he’d elicited from his hobbit, claimed the new ground immediately, kissing and mouthing up his neck before reaching Bilbo’s ear. Bilbo let out a gasp when Thorin’s kisses turned to nips and he teased the tip of his ear gently between his teeth. He leant back on Thorin then, after his knees had weakened considerably and Thorin took the weight with ease.  

 

But the sound of running water eventually broke through his senses and he opened his eyes to see his bath nearly full and ready to be turned off. “I need to have my bath,” Bilbo told Thorin who paused in his ministrations to look at the offending bath as though it was stealing his hobbit from him.

 

“May I join you?” Thorin asked suddenly and Bilbo’s heart hammered in response. This could lead to several outcomes, many of which were not unwanted and yet he was anxious, he’d never lain with another before, with such relations between males being rare in the Shire, but he trusted Thorin. This could be their last night together and would be their last before they entered the mountain, and he wanted to spend it with Thorin without being restrained by the constant prying eyes of people they had always been surrounded by.

 

“Yes,” he gasped out and Thorin kissed his neck one last time before he released him to turn the bath off.

 

His anxieties melted when Thorin turned to face him, his eyes smouldering and face serious as he put his broad hands on Bilbo’s shoulders to stare into his eyes, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Thorin told him, “Anything you don’t like, tell me and I will stop.”

 

Bilbo’s lips quirked up into a small smile, appreciating Thorin’s words, “I want to... It’s just that I’ve never... well...”

 

Thorin kissed his brow to calm his ramblings, “That’s okay,” he soothed, “We’ll take things slow.” And he pulled Bilbo into a kiss then, his lips soft and demanding against his own. Warmth flooded through him and he couldn’t help but respond- threading his hands into Thorin’s hair as Thorin’s hands travelled down from his shoulders, coming to the buttons of his shirt.

 

 His breath hitched when one button was released then another, and he didn’t feel the third when Thorin released his lips to allow him to breathe, tracing kisses along his jaw, moving back to his neck.

 

After a few moments, his shirt fell to the floor, allowing Thorin to continue moving down from his neck, moving along his collarbone in an alternation of nips and kisses which left him breathless. It was at this point, he became very aware of the fact Thorin was still wearing his shirt. It was time to even the playing field a little.

 

He moved his hands up the sides of Thorin’s shirt, relishing the feel of Thorin’s skin before commanding, “Shirt off,” not being able to say anything more complex than that with Thorin’s mouth against his skin.

 

Thorin chuckled then and allowed Bilbo to pull his many layers over his head, until finally reaching the dwarf’s chest. Sweet Yavanna, what had he done to deserve such a dwarf he wondered as he ran his hands through the hair on Thorin’s chest, finally he was free to touch what he’d only blissfully dreamed of touching. It was far softer than he’d imagined, far softer than the beard which covered the dwarf’s cheeks.

 

But Thorin was not willing to simply allow himself to be petted and he pressed his fingertips beneath the waistline of Bilbo’s breaches, causing Bilbo’s eyelids to flutter and his hands to falter before they could reach Thorin’s nipples.

 

He allowed his head to fall against Thorin’s chest when he felt the tie of his breeches come undone and he was left in his smallclothes but they were soon gone too, relieving the pressure which had slowly built there and leaving him bare before Thorin.

 

Bilbo became very self-conscious then, of his slightly rounded belly and soft form which paled in comparison to the stocky, handsome dwarf who was currently moving back slightly to take him in.

 

His irrational insecurities left him unprepared for Thorin’s next words, “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, as though the words were sacred and Bilbo couldn’t help but look into his eyes then, overcome with the emotions that flooded through him as he looked at his dwarf. Thorin’s blue eyes were incredibly tender, and became locked onto Bilbo’s until Bilbo pulled Thorin down for a far more passionate kiss, hoping to convey just how much Thorin meant to him within the movements of his lips.

 

But then he remembered they had a bath in front of them waiting and going cold with lack of use. He broke off the kiss, “We’re neglecting our bath,” he noted and Thorin gave out a small laugh.

 

“Indeed we are,” he said, moving back to pull his own breeches off, leaving nothing to the imagination. Bilbo had to will his breathing to stay under control as Thorin took his hand and supported him whilst they stepped into the bath together, aware of the slippery tub beneath their feet.

 

As they lowered themselves into the bath, Thorin pulled Bilbo’s back against his chest before reaching down to grab the bar of soap. Bilbo relaxed into the dwarf’s hold as he ran the bar of soap across Bilbo’s arms and chest, scrubbing away all traces of Thranduil’s halls and the river. Thorin was careful not to get the bandage on Bilbo's arm wet.

 

"Thank you," Thorin said as he moved to clean Bilbo's other arm.

 

Bilbo frowned, "What for?" he asked.

 

"For speaking out for me in front of the men," he murmured in reply.

 

"Well, I couldn't just stand there and let them question your honour now could I?" Bilbo chuckled, shivering slightly in the sensation of Thorin kissing his shoulder.

 

Thorin chuckled, Bilbo could feel his smile against his skin, "Still, I feel I won't stop being indebted to you. Not that I mind," he said as he cleaned Bilbo's fingers, running his calloused ones over Bilbo's small ones. 

 

And as Thorin finished, Bilbo shifted in his arms to face him, the water sloshing against their bodies. “Your turn,” he said, taking the soap from Thorin’s hand and copying his previous movements, of running the bar of soap in circles over his arms and chest, gently rubbing away the grime of the quest. Thorin’s eyes never left Bilbo’s face as he worked until Bilbo moved back to allow Thorin to dunk his head under the water so that Bilbo could also wash his hair.

 

“After... will you re-do my braids?” Thorin asked him whilst Bilbo deftly pulled the messy braids out of Thorin’s hair, moving the clasps to the rim of the bath.

 

“Of course,” Bilbo answered, “But you will have to show me how, I’m afraid your dwarven designs are beyond me.”

 

“We’ll do it together,” Thorin said, closing his eyes when Bilbo started combing his fingers through Thorin’s hair, gently teasing out the knots and lugs in his dark locks. Bilbo knew braids held great significance in dwarven culture and that Thorin asking him to braid his hair and allowing him to wash it was a sign of great trust and adoration.

 

When they were well and truly bathed, they both stood and moved out of the bath. Bilbo shivered at the cold air which crept against his skin but then Thorin was there, rubbing him dry with soft, fluffy towels. He snorted when Thorin went to dry his hair and ended up covering his entire head by the towel, blocking his rather nice view of a certain dripping wet dwarf.

 

And as Thorin uncovered him again, he said tenderly, “Found you,” and leant down to kiss Bilbo’s lips with lazy thoroughness.

 

Bilbo pulled away when he felt the cold beads of water drip from Thorin’s hair and run down his face, “Sodding dwarf, you’ll catch a cold,” he chastised before grabbing a fresh towel to dry Thorin with. And then the rain of kisses had begun.

 

It was amazing that either of them made it to the bedroom as it was, with Bilbo's hands tangled in Thorin's hair and Thorin's hands on Bilbo's hips as they kissed, Thorin backing Bilbo out of the bathroom until they managed to hit the bed.

 

As Thorin pushed Bilbo back onto the bed, his knees hitting the edge and forcing him to fall slowly backwards against the mattress, he towered over Bilbo, climbing on after him and chasing his lips up the bed until Bilbo could fall back against the pillows with Thorin nestled between his thighs.

 

Bilbo ran his hands along Thorin’s body, mapping out every knot of muscle, every scar which ran across his chest, putting it all to memory whilst Thorin did the same, gently kneading the soft flesh on the tops of his hips.

 

Thorin released his lips and Bilbo let out a small cry of protest, trying to pull Thorin back up for another kiss but Thorin kept going, moving down to the crook of his neck where his neck met his shoulder. Once he was there, he sealed his lips to the soft skin, biting and sucking the flesh and Bilbo cried out in shock at the sensation of Thorin’s teeth against him but that quickly morphed into a moan which left his toes curling against the mattress and his hands pulling at Thorin’s damp hair.

 

Thorin pulled back to stare appreciatively at the mark he’d left on Bilbo’s skin and he moved further down, this time taking Bilbo’s nipple in his mouth and sucking on the pebbled flesh.

 

“Thorin- _ah!”_ Bilbo cried out, his back arching under Thorin’s touches and his nails digging into the tough skin of Thorin's back. He needed more and that thought scared him somewhat, but with Thorin surrounding him, he realised he’d never felt safer and more secure and never had he felt more content in the company of another.

 

The feel of Thorin against his nipple was over far too soon and soon Thorin was kissing and nipping his way down to Bilbo’s navel before moving to one hip, then the other, blatantly ignoring Bilbo’s interest. It drove Bilbo mad, to have Thorin so close and yet too far away to offer any relief.

 

“ _Thorin!”_ Bilbo complained, his hips bucking under Thorin’s touch.

 

“Hm?” Thorin said innocently, smiling against Bilbo’s skin, knowing full well what he was doing to Bilbo.

 

“Get back up here!” he ordered and Thorin complied, slowly making his way up Bilbo’s body before finally reaching his lips once more. Bilbo grabbed his locks to pull Thorin down into a deep kiss, and he felt Thorin shudder when Bilbo took his bottom lip between his teeth, sucking gently and causing him to gasp and fall onto Bilbo, pushing more of his weight against him, their bodies moulding together perfectly.

 

Bilbo took advantage of Thorin’s open mouth to lick his way inside, exploring Thorin’s mouth and meeting Thorin’s tongue in a sweet caress which elicited a deep moan from the dwarf.

 

But Thorin was not willing to allow Bilbo to maintain his dominance and he rolled his hips down against Bilbo’s, pushing their erections together. It caused the desired effect, Bilbo broke off the kiss, throwing his head back and arching his back in the pleasure which lanced through him, stealing his thoughts of anything but Thorin.

 

“Thorin!” he cried out, rolling his hips in response, trying to re-find the friction which had been so right.

 

“Bilbo!” Thorin gasped out at the feel of the smaller being against him. And he could wait no longer- he took them both in one of his broad hands, bringing them to their peak, together.

 

Bilbo could feel every callous of Thorin’s hand, and the sensation of Thorin against him left him gasping out Thorin’s name, over and over until it became no more than a broken sound and soft moans.

 

Their faces were both flushed, the bed creaking with every rock and thrust of their hips. Thorin’s eyes remained open as he watched Bilbo climax first, the sensation of his orgasm ripping through him, more powerful than anything he’d ever felt and causing him to cry out loudly, his body shaking and shuddering beneath Thorin’s as Thorin continued to stroke him through his orgasm.

 

Seeing Bilbo finish beneath him and hearing his soft moans was enough to push Thorin over the edge and with a deep moan, he came all over Bilbo’s chest, adding to the mess already there as he focussed on not crushing his lover beneath him.

 

But Bilbo didn’t mind when Thorin’s weight lowered on him, he felt even more deeply connected to the dwarf then and his heart swelled as he heard Thorin murmuring what could only be endearments in Khuzdul into the skin of his neck.

 

Thorin slumped to the side and they kissed lazily for a few moments before Thorin kissed his brow and moved out of their bed to disappear into the bathroom. Bilbo groaned in displeasure in having his dwarf move out of his arms but he was quickly overcome with the exhaustion which racked his limbs that now felt like jelly. He allowed his eyes to flutter close and a deep, contented sigh leave him.

 

A wet cloth running across his chest brought him back from the edges of unconsciousness and he opened his eyes to watch Thorin cleaning him with careful adoration before throwing the cloth on the floor and climbing onto the bed next to Bilbo, pulling the cover over them both.

 

Bilbo snuggled against Thorin, allowing his head to pillow on the dwarf’s chest and Thorin pulled him close, resting his cheek against Bilbo’s curls. Bilbo could feel the slow beat of Thorin’s heart beneath his hand which was slung across his chest and in that moment, they almost felt in sync, beating a rhythm that only they knew.

 

“Bilbo?” Thorin said his voice rumbling through his chest beneath Bilbo’s ear.  

 

“Yes love?” Bilbo replied, the endearment coming naturally.

 

“No matter what happens tomorrow-” and Bilbo had to put a finger over Thorin’s lips then, quelling the what-if’s which were already stirring at the back of his own mind.

 

“Don’t think about tomorrow, Thorin. Right now is all that matters,” Bilbo whispered, he didn’t want to think about anything else or anyone else than Thorin right now, there was nothing they could do now which would change what they would face tomorrow.

 

“Okay, Ghivashel,” Thorin replied, his voice becoming laced with sleep.

 

“Will you stay with me?” Bilbo asked, and to himself, he knew that he really meant more than just now.

 

And, as if knowing what Bilbo had meant, Thorin sighed, “Always,” before sleep finally caught up with him and he relaxed around Bilbo, his arm a comforting weight on Bilbo’s waist.

 

It was just a few moments more before Bilbo slipped off to sleep with Thorin, feeling more relaxed than he ever thought possible in the shadow of the mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm just going to hide in a corner now xP
> 
> First time I've ever written smut so your feedback would be very much appreciated here guys, for help in my future fics and in this AU, please let me know what you think :) It'll be a massive help  
> I didn't want to make it too explicit so I hope that was ok :)
> 
> Next chapter (19): the company make it to the mountain and open the hidden door  
> Chapter 20: Confrontation with Smaug! :O 
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	19. Ruin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company leave Woodlandale and travel to Erebor however Bilbo receives a foreboding gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to InArduisFidelis and taylorshobbit, thank you for the feedback on chapter 18, it was most helpful :) and thank you for everyone's continual support :) xx

The feel of his curls being ruffled woke Bilbo from his sleep but he didn’t open his eyes, he was reluctant to acknowledge the coming of the dawn, knowing what that would mean. Today they would be walking to the Mountain and opening the door to Erebor where Smaug now resided. And then it would only be a matter of time before he found his friend within the Mountain, the friend who had killed thousands for reasons that Bilbo was afraid to know.

 

These thoughts did nothing but bring Bilbo further from sleep’s embrace and he reluctantly opened his eyes to give him something to distract himself from the impending confrontation.

 

Thorin was still wrapped around him, each of his light snores shifting the curls where he’d buried his nose before falling to sleep. Bilbo moved back slightly to watch his dwarf, he looked so peaceful and he committed the sight to memory, hoping that the day’s events would not take this expression from Thorin.

 

He lifted his hand to play with Thorin’s hair, now incredibly soft after their bath. He rubbed the strands beneath his fingers, marvelling at the silver threaded in with the black- a testament of the dwarf’s age and everything he’d experienced in his lifetime.

 

Thorin shifted then, sensing his burglar was awake, and tightening his hold on Bilbo’s waist before sleepily opening his eyes.

 

“Good morning,” Bilbo said, his voice still thick from sleep.

 

Thorin groaned, stretching his free arm over his head before allowing it to rest above them on the pillow. “What time is it?” he murmured.

 

Bilbo looked over at the window where the first streams of light were filtering through, illuminating the dust clouds billowing at the edge of the room. They would need to be leaving soon. “The sun’s just rising,” he answered, anxiety slowly creeping into his drowsy mind. He just wanted a few more hours with Thorin, but he knew no matter how much time he was given, he’d always want one more hour because it would never be enough. He wished he could lie here with Thorin forever, just forget about the quest and Smaug and have their own private sanctuary.  

 

“We’ll need to be leaving in an hour,” Thorin replied, regret seeping into his tone as he pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s curls.

 

“Then I suppose we should get ready and make sure none of the company have gotten too intoxicated to join us,” Bilbo said, there was humour in his words and yet he failed to convey that in his tone, any thought of departure felt incredibly bitter. He sat up, moving out of Thorin’s hold and tugged on his hand to force the dwarf to sit up with him, “I believe I was to braid your hair this morning?”

 

Thorin gave him a small smile, remembering their conversation and actions of the previous night, “If you want to,” he said bashfully.

 

Bilbo snorted, “I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I didn’t want to. You’ll have to help me though,” he said. “I’ll just go and grab your clasps from the bathroom and you get some clothes on so you don’t mess up my work getting on all those layers over your hair.”

 

Thorin chuckled, “The men have given us some clothes after ours are beyond use from Thranduil’s halls.” Bilbo felt a little sad at that, he loved his waistcoat and overcoat but Thorin was right, they were beyond the point of looking presentable. They were filthy after weeks of running through goblin tunnels, fighting Orcs, sneaking around Elven halls and swimming down a river.

 

Still, he was grateful of the men’s kindness, even if it was only because they were going to be repaid in gold from the Mountain. They needed the gold after all, it was Thror’s treasure hoard that had apparently attracted Smaug to the Mountain- the men had just been in the way of a much finer prize.

 

The thoughts distracted him and he went on autopilot to retrieve Thorin’s braid clasps and pull on the clothes that Thorin had laid out for him. They were clearly children’s clothes, but they were clean, dry and comfortable nonetheless. Thorin had been given men’s clothes- a couple of small tunics and breaches, his broad shoulders would not have fit into the clothes Bilbo had been given.

 

He followed Thorin to sit on the edge of the bed, willing his hands not to shake as Thorin directed him to separate out five strands of hair just above his temple and showed him how to braid them together. It was incredibly fiddly, the hair moved like silk against his fingers which felt nice but did not help in the slightest as he attempted to get the strands to stay put. Thorin chuckled at his frustration but patiently directed Bilbo’s fingers, his eyes soft as he watched his hobbit braid his hair.

 

Bilbo was quite proud of what he’d accomplished, if he was honest, his skills at needle-craft had left his fingers adept enough to pull Thorin’s hair into two presentable braids which now framed his face handsomely. They were probably not up to Thorin’s usual royal standard, as they would be if he was back at the Blue Mountains or ruling in Erebor, but they would hold against the weather and any rough treatment they may experience in the days to come.

 

“Thank you,” Thorin said softly, looking at Bilbo’s work with such adoration it could have been a beautiful piece of artwork. He turned to face Bilbo then who blushed slightly at the look he was receiving. “Your hair is just long enough for a small braid here,” he said, moving his hand to stroke the hair behind Bilbo’s ear, “If you’ll allow me the honour.”

 

Bilbo wasn’t sure how he felt about having braids in his hair; they were something that hobbit lasses had in the Shire, not the males. But he knew how much this would mean to Thorin and he wanted to stretch out these moments for as long as he could. He nodded his assent and Thorin’s smile widened slightly, neither of them able to give each other the full smiles they’d shared in the past few weeks with all that lay in wait for them that day.

 

It was incredibly soothing having Thorin’s fingers in his hair, Bilbo conceded as Thorin pulled the hair behind his ear into a neat and tight braid, tying it off with one of Thorin’s spare beads.

 

Instead of inspecting Thorin’s work, which was no doubt very fine indeed, Bilbo pulled Thorin into a kiss. And into it he poured his anxieties and a silent apology, he was sorry for the pain he’d indirectly caused Thorin and for his secrets. Thorin kissed him back with equal fervour, no doubt relaying a silent message that was his own.  

 

As they broke off the kiss, Thorin pressed his head against Bilbo’s and they sat like that for some time with their eyes closed, Thorin’s hands on either side of Bilbo’s head and Bilbo’s hands on Thorin’s strong shoulders. They simply listened to the sound of the other breathing as though remembering what the sound was like, the sound of the other being alive and with them.

 

After a while, Bilbo realised he’d started crying, a couple of stray tears leaking out onto his cheeks and he moved forward to embrace Thorin so that he could hide his tears in the dwarf’s shoulder. Thorin held him in turn, until the rising of the sun forced them to leave and rouse the company, he had needed the reassurance at that moment just as much as Bilbo did. Thorin had lost his home, his parents and brother in just ten years and now his lover was being sent to steal from a dragon, little did Bilbo know of just how much pain tugged at the dwarf’s chest at the prospect of losing his burglar.

 

There would be no time for hugs and caresses once they set off and reached the Mountain, their time had run out.

 

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

 

A nervous excitement had settled over the company as they exited the town of Woodlandale. They stuck close together as the town people poured out into the streets to cheer them on their way, hope of a bright future with the dwarves and an end to the darkness Smaug had cast on the land had filled their hearts. It was something Bilbo was struggling to share at that moment, the words of Galadriel’s prophecy were weighing heavy on his mind. They were so close to the mountain and the danger within- could the prophesised death be soon? Was the war to come approaching? How much time did he have?

 

His thoughts were broken off when his sleeve was caught on something. Pausing, he looked to see what was holding him and saw an old and wrinkled hand holding his sleeve. Bilbo panicked slightly in fear that they were being apprehended but as he looked up he saw it was just an old woman who had stopped him, her eyes kind and sad.

 

Casting a glance to the company, he saw they had paused ahead of him, waiting for their burglar to join them and ready to intervene should this turn out to be a trick. Their faces were full of concern and Gloin and Dwalin already had their hands on their weapons, ready at any sign of trouble. Bilbo resisted the urge to roll his eyes at their over-protectiveness; despite his size he thought he should be able to handle one old lady.

 

“Can I help you?” Bilbo asked the woman kindly.

 

She just smiled at him, a sad smile which made Bilbo feel incredibly nervous. And then she held out her other hand to him, a gasp left him at what he saw in her hand.

 

It was a singular black rose.

 

He accepted it gingerly, careful not to touch the thorns on the stem. He knew what these flowers symbolised to the men and that they meant something almost entirely different in hobbit culture. However, going by the woman’s expression, he didn’t think the message she was conveying was the one in the hobbit’s language. Bilbo resisted the urge to throw it from him, knowing that doing so would insult the woman greatly, but he couldn’t help but feel somewhat nauseated by the flower.

 

But before he could thank her for her gift, she nodded at him shakily and disappeared into the crowd, leaving a pale faced Bilbo staring after her. Bilbo ducked his head and returned to his companions, holding the rose at his side.

 

Thorin didn’t ask him what message had been exchanged in the passing of the flower but he knew whatever it was, it had bothered Bilbo greatly and he placed a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder in reassurance, leading them out of the town. He knew Bilbo would tell him if and when he was ready, pushing the hobbit would only give him cause to lash out.

 

Bilbo knew Thorin wouldn’t know what the flower meant and he was grateful that Thorin didn’t ask the meaning of him, he didn’t think he’d be able to utter it so close to the dangers before them. It felt as though to admit what the woman had been conveying would give them bad luck.

 

Just before they exited the town, Bilbo caught sight of Bard standing by one of the buildings. His face was dark and he glared at the company and the people cheering, the scar on his face made his frown seem all the more malicious. Their eyes met and Bilbo nodded in acknowledgement, hoping Bard did not think too ill of him for standing up for their cause but Bard did not acknowledge him back, he simply turned and walked away, not turning back as he disappeared from view. Bilbo silently wished the man well, he could understand his fears and he hoped they would not be realised. He would do everything in his power to ensure that Smaug did not harm these people again.

 

They exited the town, the sounds of the people’s cheers fading around them until they were surrounded by the sounds of nature once more. It calmed Bilbo somewhat to walk with Thorin with just the sound of birds and running water to fill the silence. Nature had always helped to calm him down... except when it came to black roses given with poor intentions.

 

He looked down at the flower and dropped it, throwing it to the side of the road so that he didn’t have to look at it anymore. He didn’t want to even think about it and he certainly didn’t want to take it anywhere near the mountain.

 

The company didn’t pick it up although some did cast the rose some strange glances as they passed, confused by their burglar’s reaction to a simple flower.

 

Bilbo could feel the excitement radiating out from the dwarves around him. Their footsteps were much lighter, their pace much quicker as though they were chasing the mountain across Middle Earth. They were excited to be returning to the Mountain, their home. Some of them, Fili and Kili included, had never seen the Mountain having been raised in the Blue Mountains and having lived there all their life. They wanted to see whether all the tales of the kingdom’s majesty and great beauty were true and Bilbo couldn’t help but feel a stab of curiosity at what the kingdom would be like after hearing such tales from Thorin.

 

Speaking of Thorin, the dwarf had fallen oddly silent, Bilbo noted. His face was pulled into an expression of set determination, concentrating on the task ahead of them of opening the door. No doubt Thorin was nervous that they wouldn’t be able to find the door or that they would be delayed by an unforeseen obstacle which would cause them to miss the sunset. They needed to focus on the next step of their journey and not focus on what came after, what lay waiting in the Mountain.

 

And yet, despite their excitement, Bilbo could tell the company was nervous. It had just been ten years since they’d lost their home, the dragon and its fire would still be fresh in their minds. They all walked in their family groups, shoulder to shoulder, occasionally reaching out with a hand to push each other along and just to pat their arm or back, as though reassuring each other that they were still there.

 

Ori was wedged between his two older brothers, Nori and Dori who were protectively ensuring that their younger brother did not fall behind and kept pace with the company.

 

Fili and Kili walked together, they didn’t laugh and joke as they had done on previous stretches of the journey but their faces still held mischievous grins and an excited glint lit their eyes as they drew closer to the Mountain.

 

Gloin and Oin were set in the middle of the group, a pair walking similar to Balin and Dwalin, the younger and much stronger dwarven brothers helping their older brother over the rough terrain.

 

Bifur, Bofur and Bombur were also together, occasionally pausing to pull each other up a steep section of the path, and waiting for Bofur every time he dropped his hat, feeling loathe to leave the item behind.

 

Although they were walking in their little groups, they were still closely connected to each other. They’d shared much on this quest together and Bilbo knew, no matter how this quest ended, the friendships forged here would not fade and stay with them throughout their lives.

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

 

As they reached the top of a hill they’d been climbing, they were able to see the whole of the mountain in all its glory, its snowy peak reaching high into the clouds, the stone seemingly unaffected by the dragon that resided within it. Perhaps the interior would have a very different tale to tell Bilbo thought grimly as he came to stand by Thorin.

 

But then his eyes were drawn to the collapsed city that sat in the Mountain’s shadow. From where Bilbo stood, he could see the ruined architecture- ancient sandstone buildings lay wasted and blackened from dragon-fire.

 

“Is that Dale?” he whispered, afraid of the answer. Oh Smaug, what have you done?

 

“Aye laddie, it was far grander before the dragon’s attack,” Balin answered, coming up on Bilbo’s opposite side.

 

Bifur grunted something then in Khuzdul, gesturing harshly. Bombur translated, “And it may yet be grand again once we reclaim the Mountain from the beast.”

 

The company nodded in agreement but Bilbo’s face was pale, his hands shaking slightly. Thorin caught his hand then, squeezing gently and giving him a weak smile which Bilbo only just managed to return as they made their way down the hill, walking closer to the Mountain.

 

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

 

When they’d finally scaled the dwarven statue to reach the hidden door, Bilbo was thoroughly out of breath. Thorin had had to pull him up certain sections where Bilbo’s arms had been too short to reach the ledge above. He was even too tired to feel embarrassed by the whole ordeal, his apprehension and physical exertion had left him exhausted but his part was not over yet, there was only a short period of time for them to rest before the sun began to set and they crowded around the flat cliff-face where the door was supposed to be.

 

The company stood back enough to allow the stone to be bathed in the light of the setting sun and to allow Thorin to step forward and address his comrades.

 

Thorin reached inside his shirt and drew out the key from where it hung around his neck. He untied the key from the blue cord which he wrapped around his wrist with incredible care, avoiding any damage or blemish to the leather.

 

Something passed along Thorin’s face then as he regarded each of his company in turn and a proud smile filled his face, hoping lighting up his eyes, “May all those who doubted us, rue this day!” he shouted, holding the key aloft for them all to see. The company cheered in response and even Bilbo, who was feeling all the more nervous, couldn’t help but smile at Thorin’s happiness and elation at having finally returned home.

 

Dwalin stepped forward, as Thorin’s bodyguard and closest friend, it was he who should help Thorin open the door. “And so,” Dwalin said, “There must be a key-hole,” and ran his fingers along the cliff face, looking for any crack or crevice within the stone which may pass unnoticed to the untrained eye. Bilbo stepped back to ensure his shadow did not obscure anything, he knew nothing about dwarvish architecture and was perfectly happy to allow Dwalin and Thorin find the door.

 

“The last light of Durin’s day will shine upon the key-hole,” Thorin recounted, looking towards the horizon where the sun was setting before looking back to the cliff.

 

Nervousness flickered through the company as Dwalin was failing to find the key-hole and the sun was disappearing behind the Mountains on the horizon. Nori stepped forward to help, the thief knew many of the secret and hidden pathways which the Mountain was riddled with, having used many of them himself to escape the guards of Erebor.

 

“We’re losing the light!” Dori cried out in panic which set all the dwarves off, they turned to one another for answers, looking round at the rock wildly as though expecting the door to pop out to them.

 

“It’s not here!” Dwalin growled and began kicking the stone before turning his axe on it, hoping to break the door down. Gloin and Bifur rushed forwards to help, their weapons failing to even scratch the rock.

 

“It’s no use,” Balin cut through, “The door is sealed, only the key will open it!”

 

Bilbo looked to Thorin and the heart pulled painfully to see the King’s face drop from a smile into disappointment whilst he watched helplessly as his company failed to find the door and the sun set completely, throwing them all into darkness. Bilbo shivered slightly at the loss of the sun’s warmth but that was far from the height of his concerns. This wasn’t right... they couldn’t fail here, there was the prophecy and the note on the map. The Valar wouldn’t have made such an effort to contact him if they were just going to stop here. What had they missed?

 

The company fell silent, looking at their King for direction, feeling lost. Thorin pulled out the map. “I don’t understand,” he said dejectedly, “It said right here- ‘the last light of Durin’s day will shine upon the keyhole.”

 

Bilbo stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on Thorin’s arm, staring down at the map for any clue. “There must be something we’ve missed,” he told him, trying to reassure him.

 

“It’s too late,” Balin said regretfully, “We’ve lost the light. We can’t open the door now. I’m sorry laddie.” Bilbo was surprised Balin had given up so quickly, he was among the wiser of the dwarves here, could he not see that they may have simply looked at this wrong or taken something too literally?

 

Before he could reply, Thorin thrust the map into his hands and threw the key on the ground before walking back the way they’d come, his head bowed, not daring to look into the disappointed faces of the company.

 

“Thorin?” he called, “You can’t give up now!” He’d come too bloody far to give up at the final hurdle, they were so close and Bilbo would be damned if he turned away now after risking life and limb to secure these dwarves a chance of reclaiming their home.

 

Furiously he looked down at the map in his hands and moving to the cliff face himself to inspect it, muttering the map’s words beneath his breath to try and make sense of it. Around him, the dwarves threw him pitying glances before filing off after their leader, their feet dragging and shoulders slumped. Bilbo ignored them, racking his brain for any clue in his dreams or Galadriel’s and Elrond’s words that might help them. But his mind came up empty and panic set in, causing him to abandon the map altogether and search the stone himself as Dwalin had done.

 

And then, the moon moved from behind its cloud and shone down on the stone. Bilbo watched with amazement as a tiny notch in the stone became illuminated, a shadow against the white stone around it. His mouth dropped open at his luck- The last light of Durin’s day was moonlight! Of course it was- how did a master of riddles such as himself miss that?

 

“Thorin!” Bilbo shouted in excitement, “The last light is moonlight!” When he received no answer, he cursed under his breath and looked round for where Thorin had dropped the key. Catching sight of it, he bent to pick it up but a much larger hand got there first, grasping the key tightly.

 

Raising his head, he met the eyes of Thorin who stared back at him with equal amazement. Silently, Thorin moved past Bilbo to fit the key into the stone, not daring to wait any longer.

 

Bilbo heard movement behind him and saw the company catching back up with their leader, their faces refilled with hope.

 

Bilbo heard something click within the stone then, and a gasp left Thorin’s mouth at the sound, the dwarf moving back to splay his hands on the stone and push, his biceps bulging in the effort it took to push the door open. Initially the door resisted, but then the stone gave way to reveal a long dark corridor- the secret entrance to Erebor.

 

Thorin beckoned Bilbo closer, his eyes brimming with the sheer volume of emotion the dwarf must be feeling in seeing his home again. Tentatively, Bilbo stepped closer to stand next to Thorin as they gazed down into the darkness together, their hands entwined.

 

“Erebor,” Thorin declared, “Our home.”

 

And home to Smaug, Bilbo added silently, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he thought of the dragon within. It was time to have a talk with an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being far more sad and foreboding than I'd originally intended but hey-ho hope you enjoyed :) more questions raised in this chapter but then you'll get some answers to past questions in the next chapter ;P 
> 
> And now the next chapter, the chapter many of you have been eagerly waiting for is now just a hairs-breadth away. Are you excited? ;) I hope you all enjoy it, questions that have been raised right from the start of the fic will be answered in the confrontation with Smaug, and I hope I don't disappoint you all :P  
> As usual, chapters every 2 days, not too long guys :D
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	20. Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo enters the mountain and confronts Smaug
> 
>  
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: violence, death, grief
> 
> Seriously guys, go grab a coffee or hot chocolate or something before you read this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the chapter many of you have been eagerly waiting for since the beginning, it only took us over 70k words and 20 chapters to get there haha I hope this lives up to your expectations x

 

Bilbo’s heart hammered whilst the dwarves poured into the small room within the Mountain, putting down their belongings just a short distance away from the doorway they’d just entered through. But Bilbo didn’t bother making himself at home, he knew his part of the quest wasn’t over as far as the dwarves or himself was concerned, he was far too tense to sit down.

 

And yet, Thorin gently tugged on his hand and led him over to a cracked stone bench set on the edge of the room before sitting him down on it. The dwarf sat next to him, not relinquishing the hold on his hand.

 

“I wish I could give you more time to rest and recover,” Thorin repeated regretfully.

 

“That’s okay... I don’t think I can rest now and no manner of recovery is going to prepare me for facing a dragon,” Bilbo chuckled humourlessly.

 

Thorin looked slightly pained at his words. “Still, you should have better... more training... rest... anything...” he trailed off before heaving a deep breath and staring deep into Bilbo’s eyes, “If the dragon is awake or should he see you, promise me you’ll not stand and be brave. Promise me you’ll run and come straight back.”

 

Bilbo gulped, the words sticking in his throat as he was overcome with emotion and guilt. He was planning on talking to Smaug, how could he promise Thorin he would run? But he knew Thorin would not let him go if he didn’t promise and he managed to choke out, “I promise,” the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

 

Thorin looked slightly relieved and reassured by his promise, “Have something to eat before you go and some water. You may need your strength.” Bilbo didn’t think he’d be able to stomach anything right now but Thorin was right, he’d just trekked up a mountain and he was already half-starved.

 

He just nodded, not trusting his voice anymore and Thorin went off to rummage in their packs of supplies.

 

Whilst he waited, he saw the other dwarves casting him glances every now and then, they were all oddly silent as though afraid the dragon might hear them... or maybe they were afraid this was the last time they were going to see their burglar. Ori stepped out from the group and stood before him, looking nervous whilst he held something in his hands that Bilbo could not quite see.

 

“I just wanted to say Bilbo... that I would consider you my friend, well, we all would...” and the dwarves who were in ear-shot nodded in agreement, “and well, I drew you this. You said you liked my drawings of Rivendell and so I thought you may like a drawing...” he stammered, presenting the parchment to Bilbo who carefully took it, making sure not to smudge the charcoal.

 

It was a drawing of him, of Bilbo, looking very formal and proper like the day he’d left Bag-End. He barely even recognised himself now- the quest had given him back some of what he’d lost when Smaug had left him.

 

“It’s beautiful Ori, thank you,” he said honestly and truly it was, the detail in every stand of hair was exquisite. Overcome by emotion in the acceptance the dwarves had shown him, he stood and pulled a startled Ori into a quick hug. The young dwarf’s face was quite red when he released him but he was finally smiling at least.

 

“Hey Bilbo, do we get a hug?” Kili asked cheekily.

 

Bilbo rolled his eyes and his way over to the pair, pulling them both into a hug, reminiscent of day they’d escaped the trolls. The Princes had looked startled initially, surprised that Bilbo had not turned his nose up at their request. As he pulled out of the hug and stared round at the company, who were watching him, he smiled and nodded at them all in acknowledgment. They all bowed slightly in response, sad smiles lighting their faces. Why did this feel like he was saying goodbye?

 

Thorin stepped forward and presented a water-skin and some bread. Bilbo tucked his drawing into his jacket and took the food, throwing Thorin a grateful smile, before sitting back down on his bench and chewing on the bread slowly, using the water to help wash it down his dry throat. Thorin returned to his previous spot and wrapped an arm around Bilbo, pulling him into his side and Bilbo rested his head on the dwarf’s shoulder, allowing his warmth and scent to reassure him and calm his rapid heart.

 

He knew they daren’t wait too long. The longer they waited, the riskier it became that the dragon would catch their scent and hunt them down.

 

Bilbo pulled back to press his forehead to Thorin’s, knowing the act helped to reassure the dwarf. “I’ll come back,” he promised and Thorin just nodded at him. Unable to stand the pain he could see in Thorin’s eyes, he cupped Thorin’s cheek and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, savouring the feel of them against his own. When he released him, Thorin’s eyes were still closed, like he was afraid to lose the moment. 

 

“It’s time laddie,” Balin said regretfully, hovering next to the pair.

 

Bilbo nodded and stood, allowing Thorin’s arm to drape off of him and fall against the stone. He threw one last glance at Thorin’s conflicted expression before following Balin down the hall, out of the room and into the cold, stony depths of the Mountain.

 

They walked in silence, the only sounds being the Balin’s boots against the stone floor and their shaky breaths. Bilbo barely took notice of his surroundings, only noting enough detail to find his way back should he need to. Before too long, Balin stopped and Bilbo knew he’d have to go on alone from here. The thought of what lay in wait shook him to his core but he kept his expression neutral.

 

“This is as far as I dare go laddie, the treasure hall is just to the right of here and down that corridor... You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. None of us would hold it against you if you turned back now, Thorin included, the contract be damned,” Balin told him firmly.

 

Bilbo was tempted by his words... he could go back and forget about Smaug. But there was no forgetting, not really and he couldn’t go back now and lose this chance at putting right the mess that had started with the hatching of that egg.

 

“Thank you, Balin. But we have come so far and I believe that I must try,” Bilbo replied, somehow managing to prevent his voice from shaking.

 

Balin laughed, “Your courage never ceases to surprise me Bilbo! It has been an honour having you with us.”

 

Bilbo nodded and smiled, “It has been an honour being part of this company.”

 

Before he could turn and continue down the corridor, Balin said, “Bilbo, if there is a dragon inside there... try not to wake him.”

 

Oh Balin, that is my full intention, he almost said. But instead he nodded and grinned weakly before going round the corner and following the bend to enter Thror’s legendary treasure hoard.

 

Bilbo froze to take in the spectacle before him. It was huge... and so full of gleaming gold that Lobelia would have a fit if she was here. He couldn’t see Smaug but then the dragon could be hid behind any hill of coins which stretched out around him or even hid within the gold itself.

 

Right, the first thing he had to do was to find the Arkenstone, that was paramount and then he would find Smaug unless the dragon found him first. It wasn’t going to be easy finding the jewel hidden amongst that lot, but at least he knew what he was looking for from his dream.

 

Carefully, he descended the steps of the walkway he was stood on, any sound he made would echo around the hall and increase in volume dangerously. If Smaug was asleep, he’d rather not surprise the dragon or wake him up before he found the Arkenstone.

 

Finally, he came to the first mound of coins and moved across it, the coins shifting dangerously beneath his feet whilst he looked around quickly for any sign of the stone. Seeing nothing, he moved on, looking up occasionally to see whether a dragon was lurking in the shadows. The focus of his task kept his thoughts away from the fact he could be just meters away from his long-lost friend and that kept him somewhat calm.

 

Bilbo picked up stones as he went, looking at white quartz and clear diamonds which almost looked like the Arkenstone at a distance, but on closer inspection he could see the gems paled in comparison.

 

After what felt like hours of searching, he sat down atop a mound of coins, gazing out the scene around him. There had been no Smaug and no stone. Part of him felt relieved, but another part of him felt dread settle deep into his stomach, where was Smaug?

 

He kicked a goblet in frustration and regretted it instantly. The gold cup went skimming down the coins, spraying them everywhere and clanging on multiple gems and chests as it went. But the coins didn’t stop- they carried on shifting and moving around him.

 

Bilbo’s heart picked up a furious pace again and he scrambled to his feet, backing away from the slipping coins in fear that they’d bury him. But that turned out to be the least of his concerns as the coins shifted to reveal a mass of deep red scales.

 

A gasp of shock left him as the coins continued to shift to reveal the eyelid of a very large dragon indeed. Smaug had grown to a colossal size in their time apart... gone was the dragon who Bilbo would give chin-scratches and belly-rubs to. Bilbo resisted the urge to duck behind a mound of coins and put his ring on, he was here now, the least he could do was face Smaug and have 30 years worth of questions answered once and for all.  

 

Bilbo jumped as coins spurted into the air to his left, revealing the dragon’s snout. However, this caused a great shift in the coins and Bilbo slipped backwards, tumbling and coming to a stop further down the slope, crouched against the gold whilst he watched Smaug wake up. He didn’t even notice the sharp edges of the coins digging into his knees, he was far more concerned by the slowly opening eye-lid.

 

The blood drained from his face as one of Smaug’s bright orange eyes was revealed, memories of those eyes being stirred at the back of his mind. But those eyes had belonged to a much smaller dragon... these eyes looked harsh and cruel, having lost all the warmth they once held. 

 

Smaug did not see him from his position at the bottom of the slope and Bilbo wanted to call out, but his voice wouldn’t work, it felt as though his heart was hammering up his throat and into his ears. The dragon blinked and lifted his head, sniffing the air as he released himself from his nest of gold to bring himself up to full height before Bilbo.

 

Thorin’s description of the dragon back in Bilbo’s smial failed to prepare Bilbo for what had become of Smaug. He could easily swallow Bilbo whole, in fact he could probably swallow Bilbo’s whole smial now that he thought about it. The small crown of spines Smaug had sported as a dragonling had now grown into a full array of spikes which stretched across his back, glinting like deadly white daggers against his blood-red scales.

 

“Well, thief. I smell you... you are familiar and yet I cannot place the memory of your race. But no, you are not alone, there are two of you, I feel another’s presence,” Smaug rumbled and the hairs on Bilbo’s arm stood on end to hear his voice again. However what concerned Bilbo most was Smaug’s belief that there were three of them in the room. He looked around quickly and didn’t see a dwarf that had followed him. He hoped it wasn’t Thorin Smaug could smell on him, he’d stayed close to the dwarf but he’d thought his scent would mask Thorin’s.

 

Smaug hissed and gazed around the room, still failing to spot Bilbo quivering just meters below him, “Come now, don’t be shy. Step into the light!” Smaug growled.

 

Having seen enough, Bilbo got to his feet and plucked up his broken courage to say, “Smaug?” his voice unable to say more than that.

 

Immediately, smoke trailed dangerously from Smaug’s nostrils and Bilbo feared that he would incinerate him then and there and not bother looking at who had spoken out. But then the dragon’s eyes fell on Bilbo’s form and they widened in recognition, “No... it cannot be. This is a trick...”

 

“I-It’s no trick Smaug... it’s me, it’s Bilbo,” Bilbo answered, his voice slowly finding surety.

 

“What are you doing so far from your hole, child of the west?” Smaug growled lowly.

 

“I-I heard what you did to the dwarves and t-to the men... what happened to you Smaug? Why didn’t you come back?” he asked, pain stabbing at his chest in memory of the days he’d spent looking for his friend.

 

Smaug growled slightly but he didn’t appear to be angry at Bilbo at least as he moved forward to lie down on the down, just meters away from the hobbit. Bilbo could feel the heat rolling off the dragon and his breath which swept through the air around him, a strong breeze in itself.

 

“I meant to come back,” Smaug answered, “When Spring came again. You were always kind to me. But I was captured by men in the midst of winter when I was weak and barely able to keep myself airborne. They thought me a weak serpent of the North, not the dragonling of a Great Dragon,” he hissed at the memory, his eyes narrowing. Bilbo felt his stomach clench at the thought of Smaug cold and weak in the snow. But he quickly banished those thoughts, this dragon did not deserve his pity yet, not after all he’d done.

 

Smaug continued, “They tortured me, cutting my wings and claws in attempt to get me to retaliate. But I bided my time, allowed them to keep hitting me whilst I regained by strength. They kept feeding me to keep me alive and then when I was strong again, I managed to escape.”

 

Bilbo felt his blood run cold, “How did you escape?” he asked, fearing the answer.

 

Smaug laughed then, a deep, blood-curdling laugh which sent shivers down Bilbo’s spine. “I burned them all,” he cackled and Bilbo’s face dropped in horror. “I was not strong enough to burn their whole town. Other men heard the commotion and came running, I managed to escape and fly to the Grey Mountains.”

 

“And then what?” Bilbo whispered, but he knew Smaug would hear him.

 

“And then I saw what had become of my race. A once proud and mighty stronghold of dragons reduced to a few quivering serpents in the north. They’d allowed the _dwarves_ and men push them back and reduce them to the pitiful group they are now!”

 

“No... Smaug... this isn’t you, I raised you and you were never like this. I cared for you...” I loved you like a father would a son, he wanted to add but he didn’t, this Smaug scared him.

 

“I would never harm you Bilbo Drakunfren, I will always hold you dear,” Smaug growled seriously, his eyes softening a touch but still held all their malice and hatred.

 

“What does that mean? Drakunfren?” he asked, his curiosity winning through.

 

“When I left you that day, I feared I may not be able to return to you. And so I bestowed on you what I could to protect you should you try and find me. I gave you a dragon’s blessing, a mark to my entire race that you are a friend of our race and are under my protection. Drakunfren literally translates to Dragon-blessed or one who is blessed by dragons, an instinctual protection we give to those outside our own,” Smaug answered.

 

So that’s why Thranduil feared him... his name indicated he was aligned with the dragons but perhaps not wholly corrupted since he’d managed to convince the Elf that he wanted to prevent war and stop the spread of evil.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me that that day?” Bilbo asked, willing himself to keep eye-contact even if Smaug’s words had deeply unsettled him.

 

“I did not have the words yet, my common tongue was still developing,” Smaug hissed, shifting slightly on his bed of gold causing more coins to shift under his weight. Bilbo watched as the coins moved and out of the gold he could see a white gem shimmering, blues and golds dancing at its centre- the Arkenstone! But he couldn’t get it yet, Smaug would be suspicious if he suddenly grabbed it and he still needed more answers.

 

Keeping one eye on the stone, he asked, “But I don’t understand, why all this Smaug?” gesturing to room around him, “Why kill all those people for the pitiful value of gold. You could have come home, I would have taken care of you.”

 

“You think I took this Mountain for the _gold?_ ” Smaug sneered, his teeth flashing dangerously. “No, after I flew to the Grey Mountains, I sought out my sire and mother. My sire was a lowly serpent, a creature not worth my concern. My mother had been a Great Dragon, the last of her race. I do not know what happened to her, only that she died long before I hatched. When I heard the dwarves boasting of a precious gem they found here, I thought it may have been her heartstone. But it turned out to be a heart of a different kind entirely. _That_ is why I took the Mountain, not for the gold, but for answers of my own.”

 

The heartstone... Bilbo’s brain whirled as he thought of Galadriel and the heartstone she’d given him. Could it be?

 

“So I ask you, Drakunfren, what do you have in your pocket?” Smaug rumbled.

 

Willing his hands not to shake, Bilbo fumbled in his pocket for the heartstone and pulled it out, it’s warmth seeping into his clammy fingers. Smaug hissed as he laid eyes on it, shifting slightly closer and Bilbo resisted stepping back from him, knowing the dragon would pursue him.

 

Smaug hissed, “I can feel it, its warmth is familiar. How did you come by this?” Bilbo nearly breathed a sigh of relief when he realised that the presence Smaug had felt earlier was the heartstone and not the dwarves. Smaug didn’t know about the company!

 

“I found it, I-in the mountains on my way here,” he lied, he didn’t know how Galadriel had come across the stone but he didn’t want Smaug jumping to conclusions and turning his wrath on Rivendell. “A-and how would this give you the answers you need?”

 

“Do you know why dragons covert hearstones so much, Bilbo?” Smaug asked, smoke drifting from his nostrils. Bilbo shook his head. “They are the source of a dragon’s magic and soul, they hold everything the dragon was including all their memories. We can access their memories and still speak with the dragon inside.”

 

“We?” Bilbo asked, confused. He wasn’t a dragon.

 

“Yes, my blessing allows you to access the memories as I can. Open up your mind to it, feel its warmth and power,” Smaug growled softly.

 

Bilbo was apprehensive, what would he see if he complied? What if he couldn’t find his way back? But he needed answers as much as Smaug did and he forced himself to relax and focus on the stone.

 

A gasp left him as his vision swam and the scene shifted around him and another presence filled his mind. He panicked momentarily but then he felt Smaug’s mind meet his and they both looked through the dragon’s memories together.

 

_He was looking through the eyes of dragon as it tended to its nest, a group of blood red eggs clustered in a nest of stone. The dragon breathed her fire over them, warming them and cleaning them with a brush of her serpentine tongue. Cracks formed on the eggs, on all but one, and he watched as four dragonlings which held remarkable similarity to Smaug emerged from their eggs, stumbling over their large wings and egg shells._

_The dragon licked the bloody membranes off of the dragonlings, cleaning them with meticulous care. Bilbo could feel the adoration that she held for her offspring which scrambled around her, nipping at her snout for food. But she waited, looking to the last egg which had not hatched. She was about to breathe another spurt of fire on it before she felt an immense stabbing pain on her shoulder._

_Howling in pain, she spun round and growled at the intruders. A large group of men were converging on her nesting site, throwing spears made of black-iron into her flank where they stuck and drew streams of blood._

_She threw herself over her young, protecting them as she snapped at the intruders, breathing fire on them. Many fell down dead but others ducked behind stones and kept coming, throwing more spears and knives, forcing her to shift her position in defence._

_Distracted as she was by the men, she failed to see another group of men creeping up on her opposite side, creeping closer to the gap under her belly where her dragonlings were hiding._

_She barely had time to scream before all her dragonlings fell dead beneath her, black arrows protruding from their tiny breasts. In anger, she lashed out with unrestrained fury, using her tail to knock the first group of men from the Mountain and rearing up to rain fire down on the second group of men. But in doing so, she left her chest exposed, and it took one well-aimed spear from a singular man to pierce her breast._

_Pain coursed from the wound but she hardly took notice, the pain of losing her offspring was far greater and she continued to rain fire down on them all. In her death throes, she kicked her final egg out of her nest and it fell from the Mountain, coming to rest of a precarious ledge where it would stay for many years to come, until the rock beneath it crumbled and the egg fell from the Mountain, to be picked up by a hobbit and a wizard._

_Eventually, her strength failed her and she lay dying on the mountain, her eyes dimming as she lay surrounded by the men she’d killed and her dead offspring. Not a soul was left alive on the mountain._

 

_Bilbo tried to pull back but the presence continued to invade his mind, filling him with pain and anger. And then a voice sounded through his consciousness, “EGG-BREAKER!” she screamed, “MURDERER!”_

_Panicking, Bilbo tried to pull his mind back but she held fast, pulling against his fragile mind. But then a stronger mind pushed her away and allowed him to return to his body._

Smaug had rescued him from the insane prison that had become his mother’s mind. After the death of her children, she’d gone mad with grief.

 

Bilbo opened his eyes and found himself lying on his back against the gold, his breath coming in shaky gasps and sweat streaming down his face. In a brief moment, the dragon’s pain and grief had become his own, filling his mind until there had been nothing else. It had left a mark on his mind, the memory of her pain echoing across his consciousness.

 

He pushed himself up into a sitting position as he watched Smaug return to his body and open his eyes. They were filled with fury, smoke trailing from his nostrils dangerously.

 

“I WILL KILL EVERY LAST MAN, ELF AND DWARF FOR WHAT THEY’VE DONE!” he screamed, throwing his body against the nearest pillars in his anger, causing one to collapse. The sound of his roars and the falling pillar echoed through the mountain, chilling Bilbo to his core.

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

 

The Mountain shook beneath their feet and a distant roar sounded through the cavern. The company looked up in shock, the blood drained from Thorin’s face in the familiar memory of that cry.

 

“Was that an earthquake?” Dwalin asked. And all the company were hoping it was- if it was the dragon, they could be sure their burglar was as good as dead.

 

“That my lad... was a dragon,” Balin answered solemnly. The dwarves bowed their heads and sent out prayers to Mahal, hoping against hope that their burglar was safe.

 

Thorin froze, pain lancing through him as he tried to process what was happening. And one thing, if nothing else, broke through- Bilbo was in trouble. He needed to do something, he couldn’t let Bilbo die, the quest be damned.

 

“I’m going after him,” he found his voice saying and all the dwarves looked to him, their expressions conflicted as they faced losing their leader too.

 

“Then we’re coming with you!” Kili cried out, unsheathing his sword and stepping forward. The company did the same, rallying around him, their expressions set.

 

“No!” Thorin said firmly, “If Bilbo has still remained undetected, a company of dwarves will only draw the dragon's attention. I need you all to wait here, if I’m not back in an hour, leave here and don’t come back. We can’t stand against the beast.”

 

He didn’t wait for their answer before unsheathing his sword and running down the hall towards the treasure chamber, looking back to make sure he wasn’t being followed before pressing onwards. He prayed he wasn’t too late, he prayed Bilbo was safe.

 

But as Thorin got closer to the treasure hall and slowed to a brisk walk to prevent the dragon hearing him, what he didn’t expect to hear was raised voices. He couldn’t make out the words but he distinctly heard Bilbo’s voice.

 

Confused, he continued, pressing closer to the shadows as he crept closer to the treasure hall.

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

 

“Smaug! _Stop!”_ Bilbo shouted at the writhing dragon but he didn’t listen and continued to howl and roar, scratching his claws on the pillars around him. In the shifting gold, Bilbo spotted the Arkenstone once more and leapt towards it, grabbing it and shoving it into his shirt with the heartstone.

 

“Smaug! Listen to me! There is another reason I came here!” Bilbo shouted once more, his voice finally breaking through to the dragon who paused and bent his head closer to the hobbit’s.

 

“Oh? Would it have anything to do with your dwarf friends?” he snarled, “Do not think I didn’t know they would come! And I will burn them all, like I burned them all before!”

 

“No! Listen to me, _please!_ ” Bilbo pleaded. “I came to tell you that if you stay here you’ll die... I had a vision of the future and I saw your death. If you stay here or attack the men, you _will_ die!”

 

“And why should I believe you?” Smaug growled, “You just want the Mountain back for your _friends_.”

 

“Because I still care for you Smaug, I could not bear to see you die,” Bilbo admitted, “You have to trust me Smaug. I raised you all those years ago; I took you into my home and looked after you. Surely that’s got to mean something? If you do care for me, then you will leave here and return to the Grey Mountains. You will leave here and you will not come back. You’ve got what you came for, you can have the heartstone,” he finished, presenting Smaug with the stone.

 

Smaug was silent for a moment, regarding the stone in front of him and looking to Bilbo. The anger drained out of his eyes slightly and he tilted his head, “Fine, Drakunfren, in repayment of my debt to you, I shall leave.”

 

Bilbo breathed a shaky sigh of relief, “But I must ask one more favour of you,” he said.

 

“What is it?” Smaug growled.

 

And Bilbo took out the Arkenstone, presenting it along with the heartstone, “Take this. Take it with you. It’s worth is far greater than all the gold in this mountain combined and it’s magic too powerful to be held by any other race in Middle Earth.”

 

Smaug chuckled deeply, “I will take it gladly, one last insult to the line of Durin. Place them in my mouth, little one, I shall have to carry them behind my teeth.”

 

The dragon came closer and opened his mouth to Bilbo who hesitatively tucked the stones between Smaug’s gum and lip. Smaug reared up when Bilbo had finished, “I shall see you again Drakunfren,” he promised before shaking out his wings and preparing to fly across the chamber.

 

But there was something else niggling at Bilbo’s mind and before Smaug could take off he asked, “Why kill the men of Dale? The Arkenstone was with the dwarves, why kill them?” The men wouldn’t have opposed him, they would have fled as soon as Smaug took the Mountain- no-one would dare live in a dragon’s shadow.

 

And then Smaug’s face pulled into a malicious grin and he laughed, “Because it was fun!” he answered and swept along the hall, crashing through the tunnels and breaking apart the stone in his way.

 

Bilbo’s blood ran cold, “You’re a monster,” he whispered after him, but Smaug didn’t hear him, he was already breaking down the sealed gate which fell with an almighty crash, causing the mountain to shake with the force of his blows. 

 

Conflicted emotions ran through Bilbo’s body and he collapsed onto his knees, adrenaline surging through his body. He was alive, Thorin was saved from madness and the mountain was safe... but he felt no jubilation, no joy at his small victory. Smaug had become twisted and dark in his time away from Bilbo, the only light still within the dragon’s soul being the fact he still cared for Bilbo.

 

His eyes stung and tears ran down his face as he became overwhelmed by all that he’d learned. Smaug was not the dragon Bilbo had known, he’d gone past the point of return. Their friendship, one that Bilbo had prized so greatly, could not survive this. He never wanted to see Smaug again.

 

But this wasn’t over yet, war was coming and he still needed to play his part in bringing the Elves, Dwarves and men together. He couldn’t wallow in self-pity and grief forever.

 

He took a deep breath, forcing himself onto his feet and brushing down his clothes before wiping away his tears. But as he turned he froze, his heart sinking.

 

Thorin stood watching him from the edge of the hall, his face pale and eyes wide.

 

“Bilbo... What have you done?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we have it, shall we see Smaug again? You'll have to wait and see ;) We've still got a way yet to go guys, don't worry. This isn't the end of shocking revelations, let me tell you
> 
> I left it on a cruel point, I know, but this chapter is already 5k words haha I thought about having a Smaug and Thorin confrontation but with the way this chapter headed and with the panning out of future chapters, it just didn't work
> 
> Reactions, reviews, comments- what do you make of that? I'm really curious to know what you think  
> Thank you all for reading to this point and for 200+ kudos, your support means a lot :) 
> 
> In terms of my characterisation of Smaug, he's turned rather dark, sorry to everyone who enjoyed cute Smaug :( I didn't want to detract from Smaug as the evil dragon he is in the book/movie, but there is some contexualisation to his cruelty and history which I hope you all find interesting. He still cares for Bilbo though, but is that enough to break through to him? Again, we will see ;)
> 
> Next chapter: Bilbo and Thorin have a talk, meanwhile the winds of war are stirring
> 
> Have a majestic day! Everyone have a hot choc on me, I had to have 3 coffees writing this haha I felt really morbid after :/


	21. Out of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin talk but then news of war reaches them, forcing Bilbo to take drastic action

Thorin was silent after Bilbo had explained everything to him- the egg, raising Smaug, the ring and even the visions. And that was the worst part, he didn’t shout or raise his voice as Bilbo might have expected... he just stood there, looking at the gold by his feet, his eyes unfocussed and face pale.

 

The silence stretched on and Bilbo couldn’t bear it, he needed to know what Thorin was thinking, what was going through his head, how he now felt towards Bilbo.

 

“I-I know it’s a lot to take in...” Bilbo started.

 

Thorin laughed then, but the sound was hollow and cold, “You could say that,” he said gruffly, his eyes looking anywhere but at Bilbo. Suddenly, Thorin started pacing, one of his hands burying itself in his hair and his chest heaving with constricted emotion.

 

Bilbo swallowed heavily, his heart fluttering frantically, “Everything I did-” he tried again.

 

“ _Don’t,”_ Thorin interjected, his eyes finally lifting to meet Bilbo’s- confusion and pain brimming inside of them, “Don’t you dare say you did this all for me or for the common good, don’t you dare. You kept so many secrets, all this time. You have lied, made deals you had no right to make with my enemies and have given my birthright to the creature that killed my people. If it wasn’t for that monster- my family, _my brother,_ would still be alive!” he spat, his voice breaking on his last sentence.

 

“I know,” Bilbo whispered, his heart tugging painfully, “I’m so sorry Thorin... if I could take it all back, if I could bring them back, then I would in a second. You have no idea how many times I have _wished_ I could go back, but I _can’t_. I had no idea what Smaug would do or what he would become. But I did know, if you received the Arkenstone, you would go mad like your grandfather and I couldn’t bear to see that happen. I couldn’t lose you.”

 

Thorin fell silent again and he hung his head, his hair falling like a curtain which shielded his face from Bilbo.

 

But Bilbo continued, “You still have family Thorin and now you have your home again. You have a chance to start again, and put your past behind you. But war is coming Thorin, I don’t know when but I know that unless you unite will the Elves and men, you will fall. They are not your enemies.”

 

Thorin was still again, only his shoulders heaving with the force of his breaths.

 

When he looked up at Bilbo again, his eyes were lost and afraid, “I-I don’t-,” he started before he had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself, “I-I need to think...” he trailed off, his throat bobbing with emotion as he looked around himself as though trying to find the answer in the gold around him.

 

Unable to bear seeing Thorin look so lost anymore, Bilbo stepped forward and boldly reached out a hand to him but before he could touch Thorin’s shoulder, the dwarf saw him out of the corner of his eye and shied away from him as though Bilbo had burnt him. Bilbo let his hand fall, his shaking hand falling to his side.

 

“Thorin?” his voice was barely more audible than a whisper- a quiet plea.

 

Thorin continued backing away from him, his head shaking slowly. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. And then he turned and walked with hurried footsteps, away from Bilbo who watched helplessly as Thorin disappeared down an unfamiliar dark corridor.

 

Bilbo knew Thorin would need time, that he was feeling conflicted as Bilbo did when he first had all that information thrust upon him, that he felt overwhelmed, confused and alone but for slightly different reasons to Bilbo. Oh, everything was such a mess, such a _bloody mess_!

 

“Bilbo? Thorin?” voices called from atop the walkway. Looking up, he saw the company gathered at the entrance to the room, their faces confused and shocked as they searched for their companions.

 

He froze, what was he going to do? He didn’t think he had the energy to explain himself again and face their rejection; he was exhausted- emotionally and physically.

 

But then Nori’s keen eyes fell on Bilbo, “Bilbo!” he called to him, “What happened, Bilbo? We heard a crash and the dragon just flew away. Where’s Thorin? Hey- where you goin’?” he asked when Bilbo could stand no more, feeling cowardly, he ran behind a pillar and slipped his ring on, allowing his body to fall distant from the world around him.

 

He heard coins cascade around him as the company threw themselves into the treasure hall. “Bilbo?” he heard Kili call.

 

“Come back! What happened?” Fili shouted as they rounded the pillar to look for him but Bilbo remained crouched, huddling in on himself. “Where has he gone? Bilbo?”

 

“What in Mahal’s name is goin’ on?” Dwalin asked gruffly, fed up with the unanswered questions.

 

“Everybody calm down,” Balin said to them all calmly, “Now I don’t know what’s happened, but clearly something happened here between the three of them whilst we were up in the entrance chamber. Dwalin, Gloin and Nori, you come with me to find Thorin, the rest of you, split up into small groups and search for Bilbo, don’t leave this room until we come back, I doubt Bilbo’s gone far and there’s no use getting lost in the mountain.”

 

The company nodded in agreement and split off into groups to search the massive cavern whilst Balin, Dwalin, Nori and Gloin headed off down the corridor after Thorin.

 

Bilbo moved silently across the gold, putting a hand over his face to mask the sounds of his breathing, to head towards the tunnel Smaug had broken through. The volume of noise the dwarves were making as they clumsily scrambled across the hills of gold was enough to mask Bilbo’s movements as he darted off down a side tunnel which led upwards. He just needed some time to think, some time to calm down and assess his situation. There was only so much a hobbit could take in one day.

 

Eventually, the sounds of the dwarves calling his name faded around him and were replaced by blissful silence. He continued climbing the steps, not daring to dive into any other side-tunnels out of fear of getting lost in this forsaken Mountain. It grew colder the farther he climbed and he had to pull his coat closely around him to stave off the chill, blowing on his hands occasionally to keep his fingers from growing too cold.

 

Moonlight was pouring from the exit to the tunnel and Bilbo moved towards it, hoping some fresh air would help him clear his head. A gasp left him when he found himself on the battlements, overlooking the area surrounding Mountain and the ruined city of Dale which looked eerie bathed in clear moonlight. There was no sign of Smaug other than the scorch marks still present on the pillars around him he noted as he walked the battlements, his breath coming in white puffs.

 

Something caught on his foot and he stumbled, only just managing to righten himself before he could pitch himself into one of the pillars. A startled cry left him, not from the stumble, but from what he saw he stumbled on- it was a body... or what was left of one in any case. A suit of armour remained, and inside of it the charred remains of the dwarf who had once worn it, barely even recognisable as a once living creature. Had it not been for the armour, Bilbo might have never even known what it was.

 

Bile rose in his throat as turned his gaze away and saw that that was not the only body, they were strewn all over the battlements, guards who had died defending their home against the dragon. The blood drained from his face as he thought of the lives these dwarves had had, their families who they didn’t come home to... because of course they didn’t have a home, Smaug had made sure of that. This is what Smaug had done, what he was willing to do in the name of his own interests. What if he did it again? What if he hurt someone else?

 

 _What if, what if, what if..._ In panic, he ran, only looking down enough to know that he wasn’t stepping on any other bodies as he made his way to the opposite side of the battlements where the bodies appeared to stop and he came to a dead end. Cursing, he thumped his fist against the stone wall he’d come to and huffed in frustration as he leant his head against the stone, enjoying the coolness on his brow. One of his hands strayed to his hair and found the braid Thorin had put there. For a moment, he almost considered pulling it out, feeling unworthy to wear it... but it was the only proof he had that that morning with Thorin had been real and that he'd not completely imagined it from a bought of wishful thinking. Bilbo couldn't bring himself to lose that, and eventually his hand travelled from Thorin's bead and back to the stone which leeched the warmth from his fingers. Bilbo stayed like that for a moment to calm his panic, trying to focus his thoughts away from what lay behind him to what lay in front of him, what he needed to do now.

 

Keeping his eyes away from the bodies, he climbed atop the battlements, coming to sit between two columns of stone which he leaned against to prevent himself from pitching forwards into the darkness below. The cool breeze helped to calm him down and allow him to think. But all he could think about was Thorin and pain rapidly built up in his chest again, the connection he felt to the dwarf tugging painfully on his already strained heart. Leaning his head against the stone, he closed his eyes, pushing away all thoughts of absolutely anything- willing calm to settle on him. He took off the ring after a while, trying to find whatever warmth he could from the environment.

 

Dozing, Bilbo barely noticed time passing around him, only staying awake enough not to fall off of his ledge. The sun warming his face finally pulled him from his stupor and he blearily opened his eyes to see the sun was rising. No doubt Thorin had told the company of his part in the dwarves’ tragedies by now. How could he ever face them again after this? He did not feel he deserved any forgiveness for the lies he had told and the secrets he had kept, even if they offered it. He’d have to go home to the Shire after war had passed, they would have to begrudge his company until the war was resolved at the very least, and then he would have to sink back into his old life, where the biggest issue you had to resolve was fighting off greedy relatives- not raising dragons or carrying out deeds for the Valar.

 

The sound of horse’s hooves beating against the ground gave him cause to look down. A rider was heading towards the Mountain, coming faster than Bilbo had seen any horse run. The rider’s steed was white, his coat reflecting the sun beautifully and contrasting against the rider’s grey robes. And then Bilbo recognised the pointed hat, it was Gandalf! He’d come at long last! A smile lighted up his face before he could stop it but then he realised he would now have to face the wizard’s judgement as well as the dwarves’. He wasn’t sure how Gandalf would take the news- there was no way of telling what the wizard would do or think, he was an enigma in himself.

 

Gandalf slowed his horse to a walk when he came to the fallen gate, having to manoeuvre around huge mounds of stone before he was able to come through the entrance hall and Bilbo lost sight of him. Standing, he stretched out his stiff limbs before walking to the opposite side of the battlements which he could see now overlooked the entrance hall, the place where the dwarves had made their last stand.

 

Crouching behind a large stone, he watched in silence as Gandalf dismounted, giving his horse a pat on the neck before gazing around him with furrowed bushy eyebrows. But then Balin and the rest of the company came rushing forwards, through the tunnel to greet the wizard, exclaiming cries of relief at having someone here who may be able to make sense of what was going on.

 

“Ah Balin, I distinctly remember telling you all not to enter the Mountain until I arrived,” Gandalf said disapprovingly although he was still gazing about himself with amazement and wonder.

 

“My apologies Tharkûn, but we ran out of time, you did not arrive in time for Durin’s day,” Balin pointed out patiently.

 

And then Gandalf stiffened when he realised the company was a dwarf and a hobbit short, “Where is Bilbo and Thorin?” he asked urgently, “What happened here? And what happened to Smaug?”

 

Balin heaved a deep sigh and the rest of the dwarves looked sorrowfully at the wizard. “I’m afraid that is a long story indeed, one which Thorin has told us in scarcity. Our King is residing in the Royal halls, he’s refusing to leave. As for Bilbo... we haven’t been able to find him, he fled after he revealed some disturbing information to Thorin and the dragon left,” Balin answered. Bilbo’s stomach clenched painfully... so they did know, they didn’t look angry but who knew what was brewing inside.

 

“I will go and speak with Thorin, the rest of you continue looking for Bilbo. I have urgent news for the King that cannot wait,” Gandalf told them, displeased by the mystery surrounding what had transpired in his absence. “Fear not Master Balin, I can find my way well enough, I came here enough times when Thror ruled under the Mountain,” Gandalf said when Balin moved to lead him.

 

“Err what shall we do about your horse Mister Gandalf?” Dori asked, eyeing the animal cautiously.

 

Gandalf paused and threw back, “Oh Shadowfax? He’s perfectly capable of looking after himself. Don’t bother him needlessly, he is the Lord of all horses and my dear friend- should you anger him, he will not hesitate to knock you flat,” he warned before swiftly moving out of the hall.

 

Needing to hear this news Gandalf had mentioned, Bilbo pulled on his ring again and swiftly descended the steps to follow along after him, ignoring the company around him who were calling out for him again and searching the chamber. He caught up with Gandalf when he saw him disappearing down the tunnel Thorin had taken. He kept just far enough away that he did not think that even Gandalf’s keen sense of hearing would pick him up, although Gandalf did look back a few times, his eyes narrowing suspiciously and searching the shadows before pressing onwards, leading Bilbo further on.

 

When they came to a corridor lined with ornate doors, Bilbo supposed they must now be in the Royal Wing, where Thorin and his family had grown up and resided.

 

Seeing one door pushed open, Gandalf headed towards it with Bilbo shadowing him silently, both eager and afraid to see Thorin again. They entered a large chamber, clearly a receiving hall where members of the royal family would be able to talk with and greet guests and nobles. Even under the thick layers of dust, Bilbo could see the ornate furniture and carvings along the walls which signified the importance of those who lives within these walls.

 

And in the centre of it all sat Thorin with his back to them- his shoulders hunched and head bowed over his hands. Bilbo’s face constricted in pain to see him like this, and knowing it was because of him.

 

“I told you to leave me Balin, I’ve told you all I know. If you want to know more find the hobbit,” Thorin growled, not moving from his position.

 

“Bilbo is yet to be found, I’m afraid your answers will have to do,” Gandalf replied gruffly and Thorin shot to his feet to turn and face the wizard.

 

Thorin’s face was full of anger and pain but Bilbo could see his eyes were bloodshot, even with the Ring’s power dulling his vision. “Did you know about this wizard? Were you keeping secrets too?” Thorin snarled.

 

“I assure you Thorin, I have no idea what you are talking about. Now, sit down and tell me what Bilbo has supposedly done,” Gandalf said patiently, although Bilbo could see the wizard was starting to lose his patience.

 

Thorin stood fuming for a moment before deflating and slumping back onto his seat, gesturing for Gandalf to join him, “Fine, you want answers wizard then you shall get them. Your burglar raised the beast that destroyed my people’s home, he hatched Smaug and released the foul creature into the wild. And now Smaug is still out there, with the Arkenstone, which he gave him!”

 

Heaving a great sigh, Gandalf went and sat before Thorin. Bilbo moved to the edge of the room, he didn’t want to hear this but he knew he must, he had to face his past at some point.

 

“Explain,” Gandalf said, putting the tips of his fingers together and leaning forward to give Thorin his full attention.

 

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

 

It wasn’t easy, hearing what you’ve done from another’s mouth. It almost made it seem like it wasn’t his story, just a tale of another being, not him. Not Bilbo. Which made it all the more painful when he came crashing back to reality and being hit with the realisation that yes, this was about him.

 

Thorin skimped on the details here and there but he generally gave the gist of what Bilbo had done in raising Smaug and everything after. His voice had been angry and petulant at first but then slowly became monotonous as he broke all feeling from what he was saying, and that was even harder for Bilbo to bear than his angry tones. At least when he was angry, Thorin was feeling _something._ Not just sat, staring at a point beyond Gandalf’s head as he repeated the story he’d told Balin, who had, in turn, told the company. Bilbo desperately wanted to reach out and comfort him, but he was the reason Thorin was in this state, his advances would only be pushed away.

 

As Thorin trailed off, silence greeted the room and the tension rose to staggering heights as Bilbo desperately tried to gage what Gandalf was thinking and feeling. The wizard was deep in thought, his eyebrows pulled together, “I see,” was all he said.

 

Thorin frowned, “You see?” he mocked, “Is that all you have to say?”

 

“Yes,” Gandalf said simply, “From what you’ve told me, Bilbo has done nothing wrong-”

 

“Nothing wrong?” Thorin repeated, “Have you not listened to a word I’ve said? That hobbit-”

 

“- raised the creature which destroyed your home. I’m not denying that, what Bilbo did, he did out of his gentle soul. Did he raise the creature in order to destroy your home? Did he set the dragon on your people? No, he did not. He gave Smaug the best start a dragon could wish for and Smaug made his own choices after that, Smaug’s actions are not Bilbo’s,” Gandalf explained reasonably and firmly, leaving no room for argument. Bilbo felt his emotions fray at Gandalf’s defence of him; of all the reactions he’d expected it was not a defensive one.

 

Thorin leaned back as he processed Gandalf words and his face seemed to relax considerably, “Bilbo said a war was coming,” he prompted. Bilbo felt somewhat relieved by Thorin’s change in tone, maybe he didn’t forgive him quite yet, but at least Thorin had been able to say his name. He was tempted to reveal himself, but he knew Thorin would need more time than this- Thorin bottled all his emotions to the extent that they all clashed together into chaos, he needed time to sort out the good from the bad before he could see Bilbo again.

 

Gandalf harrumphed at the change in topic but moved onto it all the same, “That is why I came so swiftly, Shadowfax being the only horse to be able to get me here fast enough, war is indeed coming. I have seen a great army marching in this direction, Orcs and Goblins as well as many foul creatures which have joined their cause. And more are coming in- Wargs, Trolls and even Great Spiders are all flooding to Azog’s banner. I believe it is their intention to take the Mountain,” Gandalf finished solemnly.

 

Thorin stiffened upon hearing Azog’s name, “How long?” he asked, his voice low and calculating.

 

“A week at most,” Gandalf replied, “You need to call for aid. Bilbo has already secured alliances for you, which you should be grateful for, with the Elves, Men and Eagles. All that remains for you to do is to call for Dain and bring the Iron-hill dwarves to your cause. You _must_ stand and fight!”

 

“ _Dain,_ ” Thorin spat, “Where was Dain when I embarked on this quest? He thought me mad then and he will not come now.”

 

“Oh I believe he will,” Gandalf countered, “Dain was afraid of the dragon, and now Bilbo has taken care of that problem for you. I have seen Ravens flying in this direction- returning to the Mountain, they should be here by nightfall and then you can send word to the Elves and Dain.”

 

“The Elves swore to only come when Bilbo called for them, he will not come for me,” Thorin pointed out.

 

“Then you better hope Bilbo reveals himself soon, from what you’ve told me about this ring of his, he will only reveal himself when he is ready.”

 

Thorin looked displeased by Gandalf’s answer, “Tell me more about what we’re facing.”

 

Gandalf sighed, “What you will be facing is one of the greatest armies Middle Earth has ever seen. I fear the losses will be great in this war, even with all the races of Middle Earth united. But if Erebor should fall to them, they will only grow stronger, and then they’ll be no stopping them- they’ll continue conquering parts of this world until we have nowhere to hide.”

 

Bilbo’s mind whirled- No, he was meant to prevent these losses- Galadriel had told him he could save hundreds of lives through his intervention. But now it just seemed that he was lining them all up for slaughter, and that would mean the death of Thorin and the princes too. But then he realised there was one race in Middle Earth he’d missed, one other race of beings he could bring to this war, another army unlike any other. There was no guarantee they would come, but he needed them on his side before they turned to Azog or another’s cause.

 

Whilst Gandalf and Thorin talked numbers and tactics, Bilbo slipped out of the room, knowing what he needed to do. First, he needed to face the company.

 

When he reached the entrance chamber where he’d seen them last, he saw them all sat in silence on stones dotted about the room. Despite being home, they seemed even more lost and dejected, their faces set grimly and eyes hard.

 

Taking a deep breath to steel his resolve, he pulled off his ring and stepped towards them.

 

Kili was the first to see him, his young eyes widening in shock, “Bilbo!” he called out and the other dwarves immediately jumped to attention, their faces filling with relief in having found their burglar... or rather in having their burglar find them. They rushed forward, all speaking at once.

 

“It wasn’t your fault!” Fili cried.

 

“We don’t care what you did,” Ori said.

 

“We don’t blame you!” Nori added.

 

“Don’t worry about Thorin, lad, he’ll come round” Bofur said.

 

Bifur yelled something in Khuzdul, making a big circle with his hands and gesturing between Bilbo and the rest of the company. The dwarves shouted in agreement.

 

“Exactly!” Bombur said firmly, “You’re one of us Bilbo, you’re part of the company!”

 

Bilbo’s eyes watered in having received such a reaction from the company as they all stepped forward to pat his back or, as in Fili and Kili’s case, give him a bone-breaking hug.

 

“Aye, we’re with you laddie,” Balin told him, “Thorin explained everything you’ve done, and whilst I cannot say I like secrets and lies, we understand why you kept them.”

 

“Thank you, truly, I never even expected you all to forgive me,” Bilbo chocked out. But before the dwarves could start another tirade of forgiveness that would no doubt reduce Bilbo to tears he said, “I-I know I have no right to ask anything of you all... but...”

 

“What is it?” Kili asked.

 

“Whatever you need, we’ll do it Bilbo!” Fili said.

 

“Aye, we’ll see it done,” Dwalin said gruffly, but his eyes were soft as he folded his arms across his chest.

 

“Well, first I need something to write a note with, does anyone-” Bilbo started.

 

Ori waved his parchment and pencil in front of him, “Will this do?” he asked.

 

“Perfect Ori, thank you,” Bilbo said, taking the items from the dwarf and leaning against the nearest stone to scribble a quick letter. When he’d finished it, he folded it and gave it to Balin, “This is a letter which needs to go to Thranduil- he’s expecting to hear from me, if you could get this to him?”

 

“Of course, Bilbo. But we have no Ravens, no way of getting the note to Mirkwood,” Balin said.

 

“Don’t worry, the Ravens are returning to the Mountain,” he said and some of the dwarves gave out small cries of joy at his words. “I am going to have to be leaving here, there are some things I still need to do,” he held up his hand when the dwarves started to protest, “While I’m gone, as I’m sure you’ve been told, war is coming and I need you all to ensure that the Elves and Men receive their promised payment. It is imperative that the races of Middle Earth unite.”

 

“We’ll get it to them,” Gloin reassured him, “Thorin’s not stupid enough to try and fight this war on his own.”

 

“Where are you going Bilbo?” Dori asked.

 

“North,” was all he said before asking, “Where is Gandalf’s horse?”

 

The dwarves frowned in confusion by his strange question. Balin answered, “He’s grazing just outside the front gate.”

 

“Okay,” Bilbo breathed, “I should be back in time for the battle. Until then, you have a war to prepare for,” he finished, setting off towards the fallen gate.

 

“Wait!” Fili cried after him, forcing him to stop, “At least take some supplies,” he said handing him his small pack he’d taken from Woodlandale, “There’s some food and water in there and a blanket for at night.”

 

Bilbo could have kicked himself, he was just about to set out on a dangerous journey with no supplies! He’d been so focussed on his task, he’d completely forgotten about food and supplies. “Thank you,” he told Fili, hefting the pack onto his shoulder securely, “Thank you, all of you,” he said, turning to the rest of the company who smiled sadly as they watched their burglar exit Erebor.

 

Walking out into the cool morning air, Bilbo cast his eye around for Shadowfax and saw the horse grazing a short way from the crumbled stone. Carefully, he made his way towards him, ensuring the horse saw him long before he approached so as to not startle him. Shadowfax raised his head and blinked down at Bilbo, his dark eyes large and intelligent. He felt incredibly daunted by how large Shadowfax was... but children had ridden horses, surely a hobbit from the Shire could do the same.

 

Bilbo had long put aside the notions that the creatures of Middle Earth were stupid and couldn’t understand him based on his encounter with the White Hart and Smaug. Well, apart from trolls, but they didn’t really count. “Hey there,” Bilbo soothed, “I know you can understand me and I desperately need your help, please.” he pleaded and before he could get any further, the horse lowered itself in front of him which made him jump slightly in surprise- well that was easy. 

 

Now there was just the matter of getting on his back... steadily, he lifted his leg over the horses back to sit just behind his shoulders where his body was just narrow enough for Bilbo to straddle him; Shadowfax wasn’t that much broader than a pony now that Bilbo thought about it, his body was lean and graceful for running. There was no doubt Bilbo was going to be walking bow-legged for days after this, but he could hardly be picky of his mode of transportation when war was upon them. He just hoped that Gandalf didn’t mind him stealing his horse.

 

As he dug his hands into the horse’s mane to secure himself, Shadowfax jumped to his feet, startling the poor hobbit who clung to his neck fiercely. And then Shadowfax set off at a frighteningly fast pace and Bilbo had to clamp his knees down to stop himself flying off the horse’s back.

 

Shadowfax ran up the crest of a hill and Bilbo called out to him to slow down and stop for a moment. And with the sun behind him, he looked back at Erebor and his eyes widened when he spotted a tall, dark haired dwarf watching him- Thorin. His heart constricted painfully when he realised he was leaving without saying goodbye or bridging the gap that had formed between them. But time, as it ever was, was against him. It would take Thorin time that Bilbo did not have to spare him to overcome his wounds and forgive Bilbo... _If_ he forgave Bilbo.

 

With heavy heart, Bilbo urged Shadowfax on his journey, throwing the Mountain one last pained glance before he disappeared over the hill and losing sight of them.

 

The only thought which kept him from complete sorrow was the knowledge that he would come back and he wouldn’t be returning alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The writer's block I had when writing this chapter was awful! I had so many things I wanted to get in and they were a pig to mesh together :P Probably didn't help that I was writing this after having one of the worst dentist experiences of my life *shudders*
> 
> Why is Shadowfax in this story? Because he's bloody awesome that's why! and I've butchered the timeline so much, I thought- why not? xP 
> 
> Another 5k chapter! I hope you enjoyed it :) You may have noticed that I've settled on this as being 26 chapters long, I have written this fic to it's end now, I'm just doing the final edits so the last chapter will be published at the end of July, schedule as normal
> 
> Next chapter: Bilbo becomes a BAMF and Thorin prepares for war plus we get to see what's going on in that lumps brain
> 
> Have a majestic day! xx


	22. Dragons and Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin prepares for war and Bilbo calls for help

Thorin sat in silence after Gandalf had left him to explore the other rooms within the Royal Wing. He’d almost protested, it was not Gandalf’s right to go rummaging through his family’s possessions but after the events of the past day, he could not find the energy within him to stop the wizard.

 

Everything Bilbo had told him still whirled around in his mind, a tornado of thoughts which left him feeling confused and lost. He didn’t know what he should do now, matters of the heart had never been his strongest suit- he knew how to command a battalion of soldiers, lead his people across a wilderness and wield a sword, but he didn’t know how to approach the conflicted emotions that spun through his mind.

 

One part of him never wanted to see Bilbo again, to send to the hobbit back to the Shire and lay the blame for his family’s failings and the failings of the dragon on him. It would just be so simple that way... but his chest tugged painfully at any thought of not seeing Bilbo again, he needed him in his life- Bilbo had been one glimmer of happiness in the mess that had become his life. And now the dragon had inadvertently taken his One from him too. But how did they go on from here? How do you return to something which had been so pure and good when Smaug’s darkness lay over it?

 

Absentmindedly, Thorin fingered the leather cord wrapped around his wrist as he stared around the room. This had been where Thorin, Frerin and Dís had played often as dwarflings when the room wasn’t in use. He remembered teaching Dís how to braid her hair on the seat which sat to his right. She’d come to find him two days after with her hair more tangled than a rat’s nest- she’d wanted to impress Thorin by braiding her hair herself but had failed miserably. Frerin had nearly chocked himself laughing when Thorin had had to comb it all out before they were called for dinner. Despite his sullen mood, he chuckled at the memory. He could almost see the two of them running through the hall, tugging on his hands to play another game with him or to throw more stones down mine-shafts to try and guess how deep they were. And for a moment, he almost expected a door to open and their heads to poke round, mischievous smiles lighting their expressions. But they weren’t dwarflings anymore and Frerin was dead and gone.

 

When Thorin came back to reality he felt more alone than ever and, not for the first time, he wished he had Frerin here with him. Frerin had always been more astute with matters involving emotions- he had been more care-free than Thorin and had kept his cheerful spirit even after the tragedies that had befallen them. Looking down at the blue leather around his wrist, Thorin tried to think what Frerin would say if he was still alive. He couldn’t imagine Frerin being angry, even with Thorin’s best efforts to rile his brother, Frerin had always laughed at his attempts which had resulted in Thorin getting annoyed instead. It was a quality he often saw in his nephews.

 

He snorted softly to himself when he realised that Frerin would probably smack him round the head and order him to get his beard out of his arse and go after Bilbo. And if Dís was here, she’d already be pulling him, by his braids, out of the room to go and find him. She’d always believed in sorting problems directly by facing them, not running and hiding yourself like a dwarfling who had broken their mother’s jewellery.

 

Before he really knew what he was doing, Thorin had got to his feet. He needed to speak to Bilbo. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say but he needed to just see him, talk this through and try and organise the jumbled mess of events in his mind. But he didn’t know where Bilbo had gone- he could be literally anywhere...

 

“Bilbo?” Thorin called out, hoping faintly that the hobbit was just sat waiting for him, behind a shelf of books or under the table. Despite the small probability that Bilbo was here, he couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed when silence greeted his words. Another thought, one quite irrational, sounded in his mind- what if Bilbo was here and he didn’t want to speak to him? What if he was already fed up with Thorin’s moody demeanour and had decided that he didn’t even want nor need Thorin’s forgiveness? But no, Bilbo surely cared for him more than that- he’d cared enough save him from madness as he’d said.

 

Thorin didn’t fully understand everything that had transpired, but there was only one way to settle his insecurities and troubled thoughts and that was to find Bilbo. He’d start with the company, perhaps they’d found him by now.

 

With determination set across his expression and purpose lighting his footsteps, he walked out of the room and headed down towards the entrance chamber where Gandalf had said the company was last gathered. The closer he got, the more impatient he became and by the time he had exited the treasure hall, Thorin’s brisk walk and turned into a jog which had turned into a run.

 

As promised the company were gathered in the entrance hall, staring through the fallen gate at what Thorin would assume to be the slowly rising sun or perhaps the view of Dale.

 

Balin was the first to hear his footsteps and frowned at the urgency written across Thorin’s expression, “Thorin?” he queried causing the rest of the company to turn around.

 

Thorin slowed to a walk as he approached them, ignoring the disapproving looks he was receiving off some members of his company- including Fili and Kili. “Have you seen Bilbo?” he asked, casting a glance amongst them in case his burglar was perhaps hiding behind one of them.

 

“Well yes-” Balin started.

 

“Where?” Thorin asked urgently, relief lightening his chest.

 

“Here but he’s gone Thorin,” Balin told him regretfully.

 

“Gone?” his heart sank.

 

“Aye, the lad just left. He said he has some matter in the North to settle and that he’ll be here for the battle. What’s coming Thorin? Bilbo said we needed to align ourselves with the other races of Middle Earth-” Balin asked cautiously, worry lines forming around his eyes.

 

But Thorin didn’t listen, he was already running up the steps to the battlements, each of his footfalls echoing against the stone. When Thorin reached the parapet, he leaned against the cracked stone to gaze out around him, looking for the form of his burglar. A streak of white caught his attention and a gasp left him when he saw a white horse running up a hill, heading away from the Mountain. And there, on his back, was Bilbo, clinging on with all his might.

 

He saw Bilbo pause when he reached the crest of the hill and look back towards Erebor. Thorin almost called out, he wanted to but he was confused as to why Bilbo was leaving... leaving him. He needed to be in Erebor where it was safe, not out in the wilderness where any manner of creature could kill him.

 

Thorin couldn’t be sure if Bilbo had seen him before he had disappeared over the hill. Fear stirred inside of him as he wondered where in all of Middle-Earth Bilbo was going. North wasn’t an answer, it was simply a direction.

 

A figure leant on the parapet next him and he looked to see Gandalf looking over to the hill where Bilbo had been.

 

“Bilbo’s business must be important indeed if he managed to convince Shadowfax to carry him,” Gandalf mused, lighting his pipe to smoke in the cool morning air.

 

“Do you know where he’s going?” Thorin asked the wizard.

 

“No,” Gandalf answered and Thorin’s shoulders slumped slightly in defeat, “We must trust that Bilbo is doing what he needs to in order to help us in this war. If Bilbo believes it to be the right thing to do then all that if left for us to do is to continue our preparations here.”

 

“I’ll send word to Dain,” Thorin said gruffly. And then, as if summoned, a Raven landed by Thorin’s arm, cocking his head as he regarded Thorin through his beady eyes. The first of the Ravens had come home.

 

Thorin recognised him instantly, “Welcome home, Roäc,” he said, stroking the Raven’s feathers. Roäc was almost as old as Thorin, his feathers touched with white as Thorin’s hair was touched with silver. Thorin had grown up knowing the Raven and had used him to send messages to Frerin throughout the Mountain when the Raven was not on other business. After Smaug had taken Erebor, the Ravens had taken messages for them to the Blue Mountains before returning to the surrounding wilderness. Their fate was tied to the Mountain.

 

Roäc cawed softly, “Your majesty,” dipping his beak in acknowledgement.

 

“What news do you bring?” Thorin asked, “How fare your brethren?”

 

“More Ravens coming,” Roäc replied, “Roäc saw the dragon leave. The beast flew North and we flew South to come home.”

 

And then it hit Thorin suddenly, the blood draining from his face when he realised what lay to the North- the Grey Mountains and in them, dragons.

 

What in Mahal’s name was Bilbo doing?

 

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

 

Bilbo’s legs shook as he removed himself from Shadowfax’s back. He’d been riding for three days now and every night they’d stopped, his legs had cramped up and left him hobbling before he could find a place to sit. Bilbo winced as he lowered himself down onto a moss stone, rubbing his legs to quell some of the soreness. Nope, he still much preferred walking.

 

Shadowfax blinked his dark eyes at him before walking to graze on the grass surrounding the clearing they’d come to. Bilbo had no idea how the horse had managed to keep his stamina as he had done, sprinting for hours on end without so much as breaking a sweat.

 

Taking his eyes from the horse, he turned to gaze up at the ominous peaks before him. They were camping at the foot of the Grey Mountains, their peaks stretching into the clouds and casting long shadows across the scene, the sun having sunk behind them. Bilbo shivered against the cold and pulled his blanket out of his pack to drape around him to protect himself from the worst of it. He didn’t dare light a fire, he knew what lay in those mountains and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself before the morning when he would be entering them.

 

The ground around them had grown rockier and sparser the closer they’d gotten, leaving just a few tufts of grass for Shadowfax to pick at. Bilbo would miss the horse; he wouldn’t be able to follow him into the Mountains- his hooves were not built for scrambling up rocks. Shadowfax had been descent company on his journey; it had been pleasant having another being with him which made him feel less alone. He already missed Thorin and the company. Having spent week after week with them, he’d grown used to them being there. When they stopped for camp, Bilbo half expected Bombur to start preparing dinner and Thorin to sneak up behind him and wrap his arms around him.

 

The thoughts only served to remind him how bitterly hungry and cold he was. His provisions had run low, leaving him with only a little bit of stale bread to chew on and a few berries he’d managed to collect. Things weren’t as bad as they had been in Mirkwood, at least he had some food and water.

 

Anxiety gripped Bilbo as he thought of his task tomorrow and he prayed it would work. It had to, or he was sure Thorin, Fili and Kili would be lost. Gandalf had said the losses would be heavy and he couldn’t let that happen, every life was precious. Bilbo also cast a thought to the dead dragonlings he’d seen in the heartstone, Smaug’s siblings- and he hoped that if this worked, it would mark out a new era for Dragons and the people of Middle Earth.

 

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

 

Thorin gritted his teeth when Thranduil sat himself down at the table, barely managing to maintain his composure in front of the insufferable Elf. Dain was quite unrestrained and sat glaring at the Elven King from his position of Thorin’s right, Fili and Kili were sat on his left; as his heirs, he felt it important that they understood some of what happened during a war, other than the obvious fighting.

 

Next to Dain sat Bard who had been elected to represent the people of Woodlandale. Apparently, the Master was not feeling able to make the trek to the Mountain although Thorin suspected it was more due to the fact that they hadn’t found a horse that would bear the man’s weight and harsh manner.

 

And at the opposite end of the table, sat Gandalf whose bushy eyebrows were furrowed in irritation at the tension that was crackling around the table.

 

“I was under the impression I was meeting with the Drakunfren,” Thranduil said dryly, looking about the room, his eyes lingering for a moment on Balin and Dwalin who were stationed at the door. “Unless he is here and I simply cannot see him?” he asked with a cocked eyebrow.

 

Before Thorin could reply, Gandalf stepped in, “Ah, Bilbo has had to leave on urgent business and should be returning in a few days time,” Gandalf replied as Thranduil turned to face him.

 

“Bilbo? He said he went by another name but he would not give it,” Thranduil said archly, showing his displeasure in his posture. Thorin had to bite back a retort, he wanted to say that Bilbo was his proper name- he didn’t like this Drakunfren business.

 

Bard leaned forward, “And where is the dragon? I see no carcass; you cannot possibly tell me that you simply willed the beast away,” Bard interjected. They’d kept the details of the dragon’s freedom away from the other parties, the men would not likely stand with them if they knew one of their allies had allowed the dragon to simply fly away. Thranduil probably suspected but he didn’t say anything, his face was the perfect mask of disinterest and boredom.

 

“What in Mahal’s name is a Drakunfren? I was under the impression this was a war meeting not a game of riddles, wizard,” Dain growled out.

 

“Yes, thank you Lord Dain. As I’m sure you’re all aware, war is upon us. An army of all manner of dark creatures is marching this way with the White Orc leading them. I cannot say how strong they number, more are joining their cause as we speak. But I can say that we will be facing heavy losses,” Gandalf said gruffly, looking at each of the Kings in turn. Bard looked displeased in having his question ignored but he let the matter drop.

 

“And so why should I risk my people against them?” Dain asked, “Let ‘em have the Mountain, the place is a ruin after the dragon’s attack.” Thorin’s hand curled into a fist under the table, even his own relatives were irritating him. He was hoping he’d have Dain with him on this, to rile Thranduil if nothing else.

 

“If Erebor should fall, they will use this Mountain as a stronghold to grow and as a vantage point to attack more kingdoms in Middle-Earth, the Iron hills included,” Gandalf replied, throwing Thorin a warning glance, sensing his anger.

 

Thranduil spoke out, “I was promised payment...” he prompted.

 

Thorin couldn’t hold his tongue anymore, “And if it was down to me, _Elf_ , you wouldn’t be paid at all,” he growled out.

 

Thranduil narrowed his eyes at him, “Ah yes, how did you escape my halls _dwarf?_ I still see the cuts on your wrist. Do tell me how you enjoyed spending your nights on the floor of a cell.”

 

Dwalin rubbed his knuckle-dusters threateningly and Balin huffed a sigh of irritation. Fili and Kili’s heads whipped back and forth between the pair, anger glinting in their own eyes.

 

Thorin gritted his teeth and before Dain or himself could get another word in, Gandalf said loudly, “Enough! This is not the time to be dwelling on the past! Thranduil, you will receive the payment Bilbo promised you, Thorin’s company has already set the gems aside for you-”

 

“Which you will receive _after_ the battle,” Thorin said firmly.

 

“And as King Thorin has said, you will receive them after the battle as compensation for your losses and thanks for your help,” Gandalf placated the Elf who looked ready to launch himself across the table at Thorin.

 

“And what about payment for my help?” Dain asked, looking between Thorin and Gandalf.

 

“You will receive your share of the treasure that will more than cover your aid,” Gandalf said. “Payment will also be given to the men of Woodlandale, for their help and to give them a chance to rebuild Dale.” Bard nodded in acknowledgement, pleased by the settlement.

 

Thranduil visibly calmed at that and he moved his seat back to move a bundle of items onto the table. “As a show of good faith, the Drakunfren asked me to bring these, at my will, in the note that was sent,” he said coolly and Thorin leant forward as the Elf unwrapped the bundle to reveal a number of the company’s weapons. In the pile he could see Kili’s bow, a couple of Fili’s daggers, Dwalin’s hand-axe and Orcrist. His fingers itched to hold the blade once more.

 

The move had startled Thorin slightly, he’d not expected this. But as far as he was concerned, this barely rightened the wrong Thranduil had done to him and his people. However, returning stolen goods was a start...

 

Seeing Thorin’s apprehension, Gandalf saved him the need to reply, “Thank you King Thranduil,” he said, “And now that promise of payment is settled, I ask each of you, will you stand with us in this war?”

 

The group was silent for a moment and then Dain stood, holding his fist across his chest in salute as he faced Thorin, “Aye, we will stand with you Thorin.” Thorin nodded in thanks, keeping his expression neutral.

 

Bard stood next, addressing the whole table he said, “My men and I are few in number but we will stand against the White Orc.”

 

Thranduil sighed as he stood, “Providing you keep your word, my people will stand in this war.”

 

Gandalf nodded, clearly pleased with how the meeting had gone, “And may these alliances endure for the years to come,” he finished and thus ending the meeting.

 

As everyone left the table to exit the meeting room, Thorin stood to grasp Orcrist’s hilt and scabbard once more. Fili, Kili and Dwalin also recovered their weapons, Kili especially looked relieved to be reunited with his beloved bow- it had once been his father’s after all.

 

To ensure Thranduil had not pulled a clever joke, Thorin unsheathed his sword to check the blade. He saw his face reflected in the blade’s steel, his tired eyes blinking back at him from his restless nights he’d missed having Bilbo by his side. War was on their doorstep and he prayed Bilbo was safe and would return to him soon.

 

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

 

Bilbo forced his back to remain straight and hold his head high to convey false confidence as he walked down the Mountain pass. He’d followed signs of the dragon’s activity- bones had lined the paths and cluttered the mountain-side, bones of deer, horses and many creatures Bilbo had failed to identify, not that he’d attempted to look closely at them.

 

His heart beat erratically in his chest but he forced himself to keep walking and ignore the bones by his feet. A stone tumbled down the slope to Bilbo’s right and he forced himself to remain calm and not jump as he looked up to see what had caused the stone to fall. A head pulled itself away from the Mountainside, a dragon’s head made of stone. Bilbo suppressed a gasp as he realised this was one of the Stone Dragons. He was far smaller than Smaug, he’d barely come to the top of Smaug’s back-leg but he looked fearsome nonetheless, his pupil-less eyes blinked down at Bilbo who turned and kept walking, hoping the dragon would follow and not eat him.

 

The sounds of more stone shifting behind Bilbo confirmed he was being followed. Holding his head high, he walked onwards, the slope shifting upwards towards the crest of the Mountain he’d been climbing.

 

As he walked, Bilbo saw more dragons poke their heads out of the stone or their caves. Bilbo could understand what Smaug had meant when he said these dragons were a few ‘quivering serpents’. They were small in size, their growth stunted and bodies lean from having their hunting grounds reduced to these few mountains. He still felt his nerves fray whenever one started stalking him, hissing behind him and their claws scraping along the stone. Some were similar to Smaug in appearance but their wings were ragged, their scales dull and eye’s hungry. Bilbo prayed Smaug’s blessing would be enough to hold the beasts off until he found him.

 

Bilbo reached the top of the hill, and he gazed out at the surrounding valley, searching for the large form of Smaug. He forced himself to ignore the dragons behind him who clung to the rock-faces, scrambling over the rocks to follow the intruder as they assessed what business Bilbo had in their territory. Their tongues flicked out to taste the air which was filled with low growls and hissing.

 

His search came up empty, grey peaks and mist greeted his eyes and Bilbo’s heart sank- where was that dragon?

 

But then a loud roar greeted Bilbo’s ears and the dragons around him cowered, hissing in fright as the sounds of heavy wing beats filled the air, each thrum sending shocks through Bilbo’s body. The hairs on his arms stood on end as he craned his neck to look at the sky above. Out of the clouds, swept Smaug who circled above the gathering before folding his wings to come into a dive and only flaring them to slow his fall and come into a land before Bilbo, the gush of wind flattening Bilbo’s curls against his head.

 

Smaug growled softly at the dragon’s around him who gave startled shrieks as they cowered away from the much larger Great Dragon.

 

“Well, Drakunfren, I did not expect to see you so soon,” Smaug growled, his orange eyes focussed on the hobbit. “Did your _friends_ not take kindly to your past?” he asked mockingly.

 

Bilbo took a deep breath and raised his voice for them all to hear him, “I have come with a proposition,” he started, gazing at the creatures around him.

 

“Speak,” Smaug said, “You shall be heard here.”

 

Gulping and clearing the nerves in his voice as he met the eyes of the beasts around him, “I am Bilbo Drakunfren and I have seen the future of Middle Earth. A great battle approaches, one between the people of Middle Earth and the dark spawn of Morgoth. Your kind has been pushed to these mountains where you have been hunted and starved for centuries. I call an end to the ageless war between Dragons and the Elves, Dwarves and Men. Morgoth has abandoned you but if you stand and fight with me, you need not live in fear of the people of the South! Stand with me and a new age will pass in Middle-Earth, one where dragons and men can live side by side!” Bilbo paused for breath, looking confidently at the dragons around him who hissed at his words.

 

“You expect us to fight for those egg-breakers?” Smaug growled, his orange eyes narrowing.

 

Bilbo turned to face him, no longer afraid of his once-close friend. “The dark creatures of Middle Earth cannot win this war. Whether you stand with us or not, we _will_ win. But the question comes of the events after the war. The people of Middle Earth will be victorious and you will still be here, waiting to be hunted and wiped out. You owe Morgoth no loyalty, do not sacrifice yourselves for his cause or simply stand by as though you’re not part of this world too!”

 

Bilbo turned his back on Smaug and stepped forward towards the dragons, who watched him with interest as he came to stand before them all, determination set into his expression.

 

“Will you stand with me?” Bilbo asked, his voice demanding.

 

Many of the dragons hissed and shifted uncomfortably under his scrutinising gaze.

 

“We are not war heroes," Smaug growled behind him.

 

Looking back at Smaug, Bilbo answered, "There will be no heroes in this war, only monsters."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has become a bit of a BAMF hasn't he? haha  
> Bit of dragonlore in Tolkien universe- Smaug is reported to being the last Great Dragon. The power of the dragons has greatly dimished over the years and many dragons can't breathe fire (cold-drakes) who breathed mist or smoke. There are also Stone Dragons however little is known about them. Then there are serpants, dragons who don't have legs- I haven't really touched them here, I'm mainly focusing on the lesser dragons and stone dragons
> 
> This chapter was a little shorter than the previous two, 4k words but I hope it covered everything nicely
> 
> Hooray for more Thorin POV, it has been too long. I really enjoy writing his perspective, I hope the switching was okay for everyone :) It was done, mainly to deal with the issue of passing time
> 
> I'm now on tumblr more so feel free to come say hello and join in more Bagginshield madness: http://meg-thilbo.tumblr.com
> 
> Next Chapter: The battle! need I say more? ;P
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	23. Fire and Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War has arrived
> 
>  
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Graphic violence and the prophesised character death kinda happens... :( just know... this is not the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... the battle is here. My knowledge of tactics ect is very poor so if something doesn't make tactical sense then just know, it's because I'm a noob :) enjoy!

Thorin was cleaning his sword when the first horn sounded, the sounds of the whetstone scraping across the blade’s edge stopped immediately as he picked his head up to listen. One blow of the horn indicated returning scouts... Another horn sounded through the Mountain which fell silent soon after, as though all the inhabitants had stopped to listen. Two horns indicated a minor disturbance outside the gates. But then a third horn sounded and Thorin’s blood ran cold. Three horns was a call to war, they had come.

 

Thorin cursed under his breath as he jumped to his feet, slipping Orcrist back into its scabbard. They were early; they must have sped up through the night and sprinted to get here so quickly. And there was no sign of Bilbo. Every morning he’d looked to the North, searching the landscape for his hobbit but there had been nothing. Nothing except for Shadowfax returning alone yesterday which had made him feel sick until Gandalf had assured him that the horse would not leave Bilbo unless the hobbit had sent him away. And that could only mean one thing, that Bilbo had reached the Grey Mountains but that did nothing to quell the anxiety and fear he felt every moment his burglar was not with him.

 

At least all their armies were assembled; the Elves, Men and Dwarves were camped within the entrance hall and outside the gate, ready at a moment’s notice. The Eagles had arrived the previous night, bringing the shape-shifter- Beorn with them, and they were now perched on the Mountain, ready to take the aerial assault. Gandalf had warned them of giant bat-like creatures and other winged monstrosities that they needed the Eagles to deal with whilst they took care of the armies on the ground.

 

As Thorin moved towards his armour, laid out on the table for him, Dwalin came running into the room. “The Orcs have been spotted on the horizon and Warg scouts have been seen running through Dale. They’re fast approaching, they’ll be here within the hour,” Dwalin gasped out.

 

Thorin nodded, pulling the light plate armour over his mail shirt and Dwalin stepped forward to help him tighten the straps. “Are our armies assembling?” he asked his guard.

 

“Aye,” Dwalin answered, “The archers are moving to the battlements and the mounts are being readied.”

 

“Good,” Thorin said gruffly, the last thing he wanted was for part of their army to be still tying their boots whilst their enemy was on their doorstep.

 

After he pulled on the last of his armour and flexed his fingers within his gauntlets, Thorin strapped Orcrist tightly to his waist. He didn’t like the heavy armour, it restricted his movement too much and slowed him down but the battle was going to be long. He couldn’t afford to run into battle wearing only leather armour.

 

When Thorin exited the room, with Dwalin shadowing him, the Mountain was a bustle of activity. Messengers ran to and fro, carrying notes to different encampments within Erebor. Soldiers hurried through the corridors, some strapping on their armour as they went as they headed to the gate. Many were gathered in groups, exchanging one last prayer with Mahal before their officer called on them to get moving, although everyone’s faces were pale and grim. The call of war had sent a chill over them, knowing that they may not return from this battle and that any one of their friends or brothers could fall.

 

Thorin pushed away all thoughts of the last battle he’d been in- the battle of Azanulbizar, and all that he’d lost there. Part of him prayed that Bilbo did not return until after the battle had been concluded, at least then he’d be safe... but then how safe was Bilbo in the company of dragons? There was no use dwelling on the matter, that part was out of his control and was now down to Bilbo, whatever he decided.

 

He passed by the healing tents which had been set up within the Mountain to receive the wounded which would no doubt start coming in right from the start of the battle. But getting the wounded to the tents was an issue, they were going to have to ride out and meet the army of Orcs and Goblins head on- the Mountain was still too vulnerable to hold off from the gate or the battlements, they had fortified it as best they could in the little time they’d had to prepare.

 

A few of the company had volunteered to stay as healers or assistants, namely Oin, Ori, Balin and Dori who had knowledge of healing or were still too exhausted from the quest to join them in battle. Thorin wished he could have Balin by his side but he understood the dwarf’s wish to stay behind, he would need a strong voice to stand within these halls when the chaos of war ensued and the wounded flooded in. He needed Balin to prevent any panic spreading and threatening to unhinge their fragile defences.

 

Balin’s brother, Dwalin, was a constant presence by his side whilst he pushed his way forward. His guard had already armoured himself, he’d been sleeping with half of it on for days, paranoid that a surprise attack may ensue.

 

As he headed towards the gate, the King cast his eyes around for his nephews and ignored the nods of acknowledgement from the dwarves he was receiving.  They would be standing by his side in this battle and riding in with him. Dís would be furious that they were going to war but he could not stop them, they were of age and they had the right to defend and fight for their kin. The least he could do was to make sure that they didn’t do anything stupid like try and take the White Orc head on. No, that was for him to settle and no-one else. The White Orc had done enough damage to his kin, Thorin would not suffer the Orc to live this battle through.

 

Looking up, he saw Elven Archers assembling on the ramparts, their golden armour glinting in the morning light. They would provide cover for the ground soldiers, preventing any enemies who managed to slip through their ranks both from the ground and the air.

 

“Uncle!”

 

Casting his eyes down, he saw Fili and Kili hurrying towards them, their armour slightly askew and an excited glint present in their eyes. They had yet to witness the horrors of war, their youthful minds and enthusiasm would hold off any fear of battle for now. But it would not be long before the screams of the fallen and the stink of blood wiped away any thoughts other than to keep fighting and to not let your guard fall. Even though Thorin knew it was going to happen, he was not looking forward to seeing that characteristic glint in their eyes fail and become replaced with cold determination and sorrow.

 

Sighing, he fixed Fili’s breast plate, moving around him to adjust the straps under the plates on his shoulder. It did nothing but remind him how very young they were still, not too young for their first battle but not one on this colossal scale.

 

Moving back, Thorin clasped a hand on each of their shoulders, forming a small huddle in the chaos around them. His face was serious as he stared into their eyes.

 

“No matter what happens, remember we are of Durin’s blood, we do not run from a fight,” he told them and they gave him answering smirks and slight nods, “But I want you to stick together out there. If one of you is seriously injured, you get the other back here and you leave the fight, do you understand? There is no dishonour in admitting when you need help.”

 

The smiles slipped from their faces as they noted Thorin’s grim tone and they mumbled, “Yes Uncle,” which satisfied the King. He wouldn’t be able to stop at least part of his mind worrying about their safety but he could relax a little more if he knew they wouldn’t leave each other. His eyes softened slightly at their now slightly less cheerful faces and he pressed his forehead to each of theirs in turn, conveying reassurance and strength that they would get through this.

 

But time was against him and, with one last look at his nephews, he walked out towards the assembling army of Dwarves, Elves and Men. They parted to allow him through to the front where Gandalf was mounting Shadowfax to stand by Thranduil, Dain and Bard, all mounted and ready to march. Beorn stood with them in his bear form, his fur bristling and teeth bared slightly, his eyes fixed ahead of him. Behind them, rows of Mounted dwarves sat on their armoured Rams and Boars. They would lead the attack, breaking the front line of defence and allowing their foot-soldiers to join the fray.

 

Three Rams and Boar stood ready for them by the wizard. Nodding at Gandalf, Thorin walked to the closest Ram and soothed the creature with a stroke along it’s neck before slipping his foot into the stirrup and sliding himself on the animal’s back. Next to him, Fili and Kili mounted their Rams and Dwalin his Boar. The Boars steel-tipped tusks glinted dangerously in the light and Thorin almost wished he’d opted for a Boar but a Ram offered greater manoeuvrability and that could offer him a valuable vantage point should he find himself surrounded in the midst of battle.

 

Gazing out towards the horizon, Thorin saw the dark strip on the horizon that indicated the arrival of their enemies. He could feel the adrenaline already boiling under his skin, his body automatically readying itself for war.

 

Above them, the clouds gathered, casting a thick grey blanket over the scene.

 

“And so the future of our races shall be decided on this field,” Thorin said, more to himself than anything but a line of heads turned in his direction. Looking at them, he saw the frightened faces of Man, Elf and Dwarf alike, all pale and hands shaking slightly on their spears as they gazed out at the enemy before them which were slowly coming into view. Their black armour glinted in the occasional break in the clouds and their pikes stood up dangerously from their ranks.

 

And in that moment, he saw not the different races of Middle Earth. Man, Elf and Dwarf all blurred together until he saw that there was only one real enemy amongst them and that was their own fear. Fear that would threaten to destroy the light in their souls before the day was over.

 

Making his decision, Thorin kicked his heels into the sides on the Ram, causing the creature to start forward so that he could turn and gaze out at his allies. In front of him, Thranduil raised his eyebrow at him, daring him to speak but Thorin ignored him, he didn’t know whether it was his place to speak out on behalf of all the races of Middle Earth but this was his home they were defending.

 

Gradually, all eyes turned towards the King who had dared to step forward, and address the races of Middle Earth. Their eyes were curious and fearful, something Thorin aimed to stamp out before this war could truly begin.

 

Emboldened, he raised his voice, “Dwarves of the Iron Hills! Elves of Mirkwood and Men of Dale! We stand united against the evil of Middle Earth. A dark day lies before us, one filled with blood and death. But the darkness shall hold on this day alone, we _will_ not let darkness fall over our homes, over our families and the days to come. The darkness over Middle Earth shall break on this day and leave the future of our children and our children’s children to be filled with light and all that is good on this land! I call for the races of this Earth to unite against the evil in this Earth! Will you stand with me, not as distinct races, but together, united under the same cause?” Thorin shouted, raising his sword as he waited for his answer.

 

He didn’t have to wait long before his ears were met with answering cheers and the clashes of swords and spears banging against shields. Even Thranduil looked mildly impressed and Dain raised his sword in answer, crying out, “Oakenshield!” which was picked up by the men around him before it passed along the army, a cry of war in itself. Gandalf gave him a nod of approval, but his face remained serious.

 

And with that, they began their march forwards, heading towards the darkness on the horizon with their hearts lightened and fear pushed aside as they marched out to the battle that would decide their future.

 

As they grew closer, even Thorin could not help but feel daunted in the face of the army before them. Their ranks stretched out as far as the surrounding hills, and he could not see how far back they went. Thousands upon thousands of Orcs, Goblins and Wargs marched towards them, the sounds of their feet and armour sounding around them until that was all they could hear, even at this distance.

 

And they didn’t stop as they grew closer, there would be no negotiations, no peace treaty. The spawn of Morgoth had gathered for a singular purpose alone- to destroy the world as they knew it and to start a new Age in which they only existed as slaves for their evil demise. Thorin would rather die than live in such an age and he would die defending his people and his home if he had to.

 

Seeing their enemy on Mounts, the Orcs stopped their march and their pikes came forward to point menacingly at them. With one last cry, the charge was led against the opposing army, the heads of their mounts ducking down and ready to throw off their attackers. And the men’s horses dropped behind them to follow once the first line of pikes was thrown aside. Behind them, the Eagles took off, joining them in the air to meet the winged beasts that threatened to pluck them into the air and drop them from dangerous heights.

 

Arrows whistled through the air above their heads but Thorin paid them no heed, focussing his attention on the Orcs before him and steering his mount so that he would not spear himself on the ends of those steel tips.

 

With his army behind him, they smashed into their enemy, their mounts dodging or jumping over the pikes so that their riders could slash down at the foul creatures opposing them. Or as in Beorn’s case, he swept the pikes aside with one sweep of his giant paws and proceeded to crush any creature in his wake. Thorin’s mind went blank as he lost himself to the frenzy of battle, cutting down every Orc and Goblin who stood in his way and they all fell lifeless to the ground, their eyes open and empty. Blood splattered on his face and clothing but he barely noticed it, all he could feel was the crunch of bone beneath his sword and the cries of his foes as they received each fatal blow from their attackers. He lost sight of what was going on to the right and left of him and a singular objective filled his mind- to find the White Orc and destroy that monster once and for all.

 

He couldn’t see the Orc amongst the writhing bodies before him and he pressed onwards, ever searching and constantly alert for any sign of a white body- Warg or Orc- that stood in the enemy ranks. But then out of the corner of his eye, he saw a spear fly towards him that he didn’t have time to dodge. Ducking his head down, he heard the Ram beneath him cry out a yell of pain and he was thrown forwards onto the ground.

 

The wind was thrown out of Thorin as he landed on the battlefield but he immediately pushed himself up, just in time to hold off a Goblin who had advanced to take advantage of his vulnerability. In one swift move, he deflected the Goblin’s blade and slashed its head from its neck, allowing the body to fall quivering to the ground. Looking back, his mount lay dead in the mud, the spear protruding from his chest and staining the ground red.

 

Around him, the battle waged on, a mass of bodies hacking and slashing at one another until their opponent fell down dead. The smell of blood was thick in the air; it clawed at their throats and stirred the contents of their stomachs dangerously.

 

But there was no time to dwell on it before a cruel laugh sounded to his right. Whirling to face his next opponent, Thorin found himself stood facing the White Orc himself whose face was pulled into a bitter snarl. The Orc snarled something in that foul speech of his and Thorin did not need to translate it to know that he was mocking him. Azog started towards him but then paused as a singular sound penetrated the air.

 

_Thrum_

 

Thorin’s blood ran cold... he knew that sound.

 

_Thrum_

Azog turned his face to the sky and his face dropped in astonishment which quickly morphed into anger.

 

_Thrum_

 

Unable to stop himself, Thorin followed Azog’s gaze and watched as a dragon descended from the sky. His body almost looked on fire as his red scales became a blur when Smaug dipped into a dive, aiming straight for the line of Orcs at the back of the enemy lines that they had yet to reach. With a burst of flame, the dragon incinerated the Orcs and Goblins, a line of fire replacing what had been the bodies of their enemies.

 

Cries of fear sounded around him and Thorin looked to see the battle had almost paused to watch the beast. The men were crying out in terror, their eyes wide and faces pale as the dragon banked around to send another jet of fire at their enemies. Thorin’s nerves and hardened resolve returned to him when he realised that _this_ must have been Bilbo’s doing. The hobbit had brought the dragon to save them. But no, not just Smaug, emerging from the clouds were even more dragons, their bodies were no bigger than an Eagles but it was enough to join the birds in their aerial assault. The smaller dragons used their teeth and claws to lock onto the bats and throw them from the sky, ripping their wings from their bodies and biting their necks to crush their windpipes.

 

But confusion was spreading among the lines of men and dwarves who did not know whether these creatures were here to save them or kill them all.

 

“Stand your ground!” Thorin yelled at them, “The Dragons shall not harm you!” However, they hardly heard them but he was relieved to see they didn’t stop fighting, regardless of what was going on above and in front of them.

 

As Thorin cast one last glance towards Smaug, he saw something blue glint on the dragon’s back. Bilbo! Bilbo was clinging to one of Smaug’s neck spikes as the dragon came down again and again to bathe their enemy in fire.

 

A cry of fury brought him back to where he stood and Thorin just had enough time to duck and roll as Azog sent a blow of his mace his way.

 

He would deal with Azog and then he would find Bilbo.

 

Hold on Bilbo, Thorin thought as he turned to face the Orc, hold on.

 

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

 

The smell of burning flesh and smoke filled Bilbo’s lungs and caused him to cough, lowering his sword to cling tighter onto Smaug’s back. He’d hoped that if one of his friends below saw him on the dragon’s back, they’d know that they were here to help not to fight them. But maybe riding on Smaug’s back had not been such a good idea... the dragon’s scales were rough against his legs and had taken some of the skin off of his feet in the ride over here. It was also incredibly difficult to breathe up here, the air gushed over Smaug’s back with such force, it knocked the air from his lungs and he had to duck his head to bring in gasps of air.

 

As the enemy scattered beneath Smaug and mixed in with their allies, the dragon was forced to land so that he could selectively kill his opponents rather than send blind bursts of fire in their direction which would surely burn them all, friend and foe alike.

 

Bilbo’s teeth clattered together as Smaug thumped against the ground in landing. Smaug raised his head to roar which echoed across the battlefield and bounced back off the Lonely Mountain. The cry caused any being around the dragon to run screaming in terror, none daring to oppose such a beast.

 

Smaug laughed as the creatures ran before him and he snaked his head forward to snatch them before they could run, revelling in the easy prey that fell by his own might.

 

Gripping to the spike in front of him, Bilbo gazed out at the surrounding scene and a gasp left him. The ground around them lay blackened from Smaug’s fire, the bodies of their enemies barely distinguishable in the mass of charred armour and bone. For a second, he thought back to how sick he felt when he’d made his first kill, how awful he’d felt knowing that he’d taken a life. And now he’d brought a dragon to a battle, these lives were on his hands as much as Smaug’s. But this was life or death, Thorin or Azog and that decision was all too easy to make.

 

Pain lanced through Bilbo from his shoulder, causing him to scream at the sheer intensity of it. Looking down, he saw an arrow protruding from his shoulder, the head having sunk deep into the flesh where he could feel it scrape against his bone. Bilbo’s eyes watered and his arm weakened but he forced his other arm to remain locked around the spike in front of him. He could not fall.

 

Hearing Bilbo’s scream, Smaug whirled round to look for the archer who had dared attack them. A battalion of Orcs was advancing on them, led by a white Orc which looked similar to Azog but was slightly smaller and blind in one eye. The orc lowered his bow to snarl at the dragon who roared in response, furious that Bilbo had been hurt. Black spots formed in Bilbo’s vision but he forced himself to stay awake as Smaug sent a jet of fire at the group of attackers. Anticipating the attack, the Orcs threw themselves to the sides, spreading out to attack the dragon from all sides and dodge the fire which failed to kill a single one of them.

 

Smaug roared in frustration and snarled as they shot more arrows and spears towards him which penetrated the vulnerable membrane of his wings but glanced harmlessly off the scales on his body. Bilbo sent out a prayer in thanks to the Valar every time one missed him but his shirt was quickly becoming covered in his own blood from where he was bleeding in his shoulder. His arm grew weak and fell limp by his side as it became starved of blood.

 

The Orcs continued to advance and Smaug backed away to prevent them from getting a clear shot of his back. Turning to his right, Smaug send a jet of flame at the Orcs closest to him who fell, writhing in pain, before stilling in death. Snapping his head forward, Smaug dispatched the remaining Orcs on that side of his body using his teeth and powerful jaws.

 

However, the force of the movement caused Bilbo to lose his grip on Smaug’s back and before he could utter so much as a cry, he went tumbling off the dragon’s back. The hobbit landed on the ground with a hard thud and for a moment his vision blackened but then his environment came back into focus. Staring up at the sky, he watched as dragons and Eagles soared overhead, throwing the bats to the ground and occasionally falling themselves. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he became overwhelmed by the loss of life he felt around him and he prayed Thorin was safe wherever he was on the battlefield.

 

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

 

Thorin ducked again as Azog swung at him with his Mace, the blades just barely missing his head. The force of the swing left the Orc off-balance and Thorin swung at the exposed arm, managing to cut deep into his flesh but not entirely sever the limb as he had done before.

 

He jumped back as Azog roared and turned to face him, his cold blue eyes filled with fury and pain.

 

Feeling brave, Thorin jeered, “Come on then you filth! Let’s even up that other arm!”

 

Howling in fury, Azog leapt forward, slashing down on Thorin’s head. Cursing, Thorin rolled away, and before he could get another blow in, Azog recovered from his leap and continued to pursue him, hacking and slashing at the dwarf who dodged the blows before he was forced the meet the last one on his sword before it could come down on his shoulder. The block sent shocks up his arm, but he forced his arm to stay strong and keep the mace from getting any closer to his body. Sweat beaded on his brow as their weapons became locked in a deadly embrace, neither one of them willing to break it off.

 

But then, Azog growled and tensed his legs to spring forward, using the leverage of the locked weapons to push Thorin over and stand over him with his Mace poised to strike again. Gasping, Thorin raised Orcrist with both hands to stop the fatal blow but Azog continued to bear down on him, pushing the Mace towards his chest. The muscles in his arms bulged in the effort it took to hold off the attack but he was fatiguing quickly, every second he grew weaker and Azog knew it, judging by the smirk which grew on the Orcs face.

 

Thorin racked his brains, trying to figure out any move or tactic which would allow him to get out of this but his mind came up with only one thing- he was trapped, if he moved his weapon, he’d die... if he moved his body, his block would shift and he would die... but by taking a fatal blow, he could also elicit one in return, killing them both. It was the only way... he had two choices, hold off for as long as he could and die or let Azog deal the fatal blow and hand the Orc one in return.

 

A deep calm settled over Thorin as he resigned himself to his fate and he sent out a silent apology to Bilbo, wishing he could see him again to tell him he was sorry and that Bilbo had done nothing wrong and to thank the hobbit for showing him that he could have happiness again.

 

He relaxed the hold on his sword slightly and the Mace’s sharp points came closer to his chest. Azog laughed triumphantly, certain of his victory and not suspecting a trick. But before Thorin could completely remove his sword, a blur of dark scales shot across his vision and the pressure on his arms was removed. Rolling over, he saw Azog pinned beneath the body of a small dragon who was now in the process of ripping the Orc’s head from his shoulders, its jaws locked on either side of Azog’s snarling face. With one final tug, Azog’s head went rolling across the ground and the Orc fell lifeless to the ground.

 

Around them, Orcs and Goblins alike howled in fury and immediately charged on them, their spears and swords aimed at the dwarf and the dragon. With renewed strength, Thorin deflected their blows and sunk his sword deep into their bodies but they were still outnumbered, even taking into account the dragon’s superior strength.

 

However, having seen the White Orc fall, dwarves and Elves rallied to their side, amongst them being Fili and Kili who dispatched the last of the Goblins with ease.  

 

Panting from the exertion, Thorin turned back to the dragon who had saved him. To his surprise, he didn’t even feel angry at having the kill taken from him- he had his life and even though he never expected to be saved by a dragon, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat grateful.

 

“Thank you,” Thorin said to the dragon who merely blinked at him before taking off and rejoining the fray.

 

A loud roar from ahead of them took Thorin’s attention from the dragon and his face dropped in horror as he watched Smaug become surrounded by Orcs and Goblins. He scanned the dragon’s back and his search came up empty, Bilbo wasn’t there!

 

“Fili, Kili, come with me!” Thorin ordered as he took off towards the Great Dragon, slashing at every Orc, Spider and Goblin who stood in his way. Around him, he saw Bofur and Bifur join them but his focus turned to the dragon ahead of him who was struggling to fight off the sheer number of attackers he was facing on all sides.

 

But he wasn’t concerned for the dragon, Thorin’s sole concern at that moment was for Bilbo’s safety. And he raced ahead, lifting his sword to join the attack and find his One.

 

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

 

Bilbo could feel himself growing weaker as he lay on the ground that was being stained with his blood. He was also faintly aware that the cut on his arm had reopened but he couldn’t feel it, not really. All he could feel was the dull throbbing of his shoulder and the blood leaking down his arm.

 

Smaug had thrown his body over Bilbo, protecting him with his wings so that the enemy could not see him. However, by protecting Bilbo, Smaug had restricted his movement greatly and he couldn’t turn properly face his attackers who were throwing spear after spear at his flank where they bounced off harmlessly. He could hear Smaug roaring at them, pausing every few moments to send jets of flame at them but they kept coming.

 

Bilbo frowned as he heard more cries, shouts of war and clangs of metal which were close by... someone had come to aid them. He wished he could see who it was, but he could barely see anything hidden in the dark under Smaug’s belly. Blinking sleepily, he looked at the scales above him and realised that one, on the left of Smaug’s breast was missing.

 

Before he could study the missing scale any further, Smaug shifted above him and his vision was once again filled with the sky and the concluding battle above him.

 

“Bilbo!” a familiar voice shouted.

 

Turning his head slightly, Bilbo looked to see Thorin running towards him and he smiled weakly at his dwarf. He was safe! And there stood behind him were Fili and Kili, watching the scene with worry etched across their faces. They looked exhausted and were covered in blood, but they weren't seriously injured and they were alive.

 

Reaching his hobbit, Thorin sheathed his sword and knelt down beside him, pulling his body partially into the dwarf’s lap.

 

“Stay with me Bilbo,” Thorin told him urgently, the dwarf wrapped his arms around his knees and shoulders to lift him, being careful to avoid the arrow still sticking out of his shoulder. “I’m going to take you back to Erebor and you’ll be alright. You’re going to be alright,” Thorin said, trying to reassure him but Bilbo knew was trying to reassure himself just as much.

 

“It’s okay,” Bilbo mumbled in his arms as Thorin lifted him, cradling him against his chest.

 

Letting his head loll slightly, Bilbo looked to see Smaug watch him curiously, the dragon’s expression conflicted and eye’s softer than he’d ever seen them since they’d been reunited.

 

“Thank you,” Bilbo said to the dragon before Thorin could take him away.

 

Smaug blinked and looked to be about to say something before a shout filled the air.

 

“SMAUG!” Bard shouted as he emerged from the mist and smoke, his eyes full of anger and fixed on Smaug. Bilbo's eyes widened when he recognised the item Bard was carrying. No...

 

Turning to face him, Smaug raised his head to bear down on the man, and rage filled his orange eyes once more. Moving protectively in front of Bilbo, Smaug raised himself to attack the bowman, fire stirring within the dragon's chest. 

 

But before Smaug could send a column of flame at Bard, the bowman raised his bow where he’d notched a black arrow. Bilbo could only watch in horror as Bard released the arrow and it went sailing towards the dragon’s exposed breast.

 

“NO!” Bilbo screamed, attempting to throw himself out of Thorin’s arms but the dwarf held him fast, his face equally pale as he watched the black arrow pierce Smaug’s chest, causing the dragon to roar in pain and fury.

 

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” Bilbo screamed, his voice breaking as he watched Smaug turn his head, one last time, towards Bilbo before his strength failed him and his body fell limply to the ground. No... he couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t. “Smaug?” he shouted, willing the dragon to open his eyes, but he didn’t... he just lay there. 

 

Cheers snapped Bilbo out of his daze and he looked to see men from Woodlandale moving forward to congratulate Bard. “Bard's saved us!” one man cried, “Bard the Dragon-slayer!” 

 

“He was my friend!” Bilbo yelled, and pain which had nothing to do with his shoulder or his arm, spread through his chest causing tears to spill from his eyes. Bard finally turned to face him, confusion written across his expression. 

 

Their gaze was broken when Thorin turned and started carrying him from the scene, his arms firmly holding the hobbit against his chest. Bilbo tried to push away from him. He had to get to Smaug... he had to... had to...

 

But then darkness filled his vision and he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really really sorry :( don't hate me! 
> 
> There are a couple things I'd like to clarify before you all start sharpening your pitchforks... put them down guys, I can see them behind your backs :P  
> First, I'm not setting up Bard as a villain, I love Bard- he's an awesome character, but he's been through a lot of crap and so have the men. So this is going to create a lot of conflicting views between them as to whether the kill was justified. And this is going to spill over into the coming chapters.  
> Secondly, this story is not over guys, don't hate me just yet... ;) 
> 
> Next chapter: Bilbo gets some answers off of some unexpected visitors 
> 
> Have a majestic day! and a hot beverage of your choice :)


	24. Our Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo finds himself in an unexpected place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter will give you a lil bit of hope about Smaug... lots of grief and sadness here but also a look to the future. Sorry for all the tears last chapter and for any in the next two :( There is a happier ending in store  
> Here's Puff the apology dragon: http://meg-thilbo.tumblr.com/image/124991561486

Bilbo blinked open his eyes and he found himself within an unfamiliar forest. Light streamed down from the canopy above and made the gold tipped leaves shine as they rustled in the breeze. Gazing around himself, he took in the beautiful forest around him, calm settling in his chest as he breathed in the fresh smell of rich earth and leaves. But something stirred in the back of his mind like a splinter- reminding him that he shouldn’t be here... he was forgetting something.

 

“Bilbo?” a female voice called behind him.

 

Startled, Bilbo shot round and his eyes widened in recognition when they fell on the form of Lady Galadriel. The she-elf was watching him, her eyes almost pitying and sad. And her expression brought everything crashing down on him again... the battle and Smaug... Smaug! Pain ripped through him again, like a wound tearing anew even though he had no physical wounds here; or at least he didn’t think he did, Bilbo’s clothes were clean, just a simple shirt and breaches. To Bilbo’s surprise, he didn’t cry. He just hurt and felt deeply confused.

 

Seeing the surge of emotions within the hobbit’s eyes, Galadriel gestured to a fallen tree behind her, “Come and sit with me,” she said, “We have much to discuss.”

 

Bilbo found his legs carrying to sit down next to the lady even though he didn’t really feel like talking. He didn’t know what he wanted to do, his emotions clashed together with such intensity, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted or needed to cry or scream, shout or rage in the anger, pain and grief he felt.

 

“I failed,” was all he managed to say, staring at the fallen leaves by his feet. Bilbo had saved Fili, Kili and Thorin, as far as he knew, but Smaug had still died and the dream he’d had of dragons and people living side by side was hanging by a thread if not already over.

 

“On the contrary, you have saved the lives of thousands of people. You have united the races of Middle Earth, an alliance which will save thousands of lives in the wars to come,” Galadriel argued, her voice soft.

 

And have taken lives in the process... “Back in Rivendell, you told me a single choice will hinge on whether Smaug lives or dies... was that my choice to involve them in the war?” Bilbo asked, his voice weak.

 

“Yes,” Galadriel answered, “But whilst it was your choice to involve them, Smaug chose to join you in battle and he knew the risks he faced. Bard also chose to take revenge for his family and his people; you did not know what he would do. You cannot continue to blame yourself for the choices of others. By intervening as you did, you not only secured victory but also a promising future for Middle Earth.”

 

“Would Thorin have died if I hadn’t involved the dragons?”

 

“Yes, as Bard was driven by revenge for his family, Thorin was driven by the same revenge towards the White Orc. And Smaug was driven by his hatred of men. Even with meeting you again, Smaug's soul was still conflicted and tormented by his past- the pain he felt, he then inflicted on others. Such hatred only destroys,” she replied. Part of him wondered, at those words, whether Smaug had joined the fight simply to kill, or because of his loyalty to Bilbo. Bilbo liked to believe the latter, but he and Smaug had not exactly had a proper conversation before the end- there had not been time. He'd lost him before he could properly talk through Smaug's pain and their friendship.

 

“So no matter what I did, I would lose one of them?” Bilbo asked bitterly. He knew a death was coming but part of him had not quite believed it.

 

“A death was certain in the multitude of paths you could have taken. In some, you died defending Thorin or Smaug, in others Thorin died fighting Azog and in some, they all died including certain members of your company. Do not linger on the dead, Bilbo, remember the living,” Galadriel said softly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

 

Finally, Bilbo looked up into her eyes, “And what now?” he asked. What was left for him back at Erebor? Did Thorin forgive him? What would happen to the dragons now? Would they now look to him?

 

She smiled at him, and simply to see it, sparked hope in Bilbo’s chest, “And now, you rest and grieve as you must. Your task is not yet over if you wish to pursue the future you have tried to build. But now, you have some time to tend to what is closest to you.”

 

Galadriel stood them, her white dress brushing against the carpet of leaves, “And now I must leave you, Bilbo. There are others who wish to talk with you,” she smiled, stepping away to walk into the forest.

 

“Wait,” Bilbo called after her and she turned to face, “I have one more question... where did you get the Heartstone from... and how did you know Smaug would want it?”

 

“You are not the only one with friends in the Mountains, Drakunfren,” she answered ominously and his vision swam, the forest disappearing into darkness.

 

When his vision cleared again, Bilbo found himself stood in a large hall made of stone and marble. Great glass windows lined the walls, allowing light to flood the room and illuminate the great pillars of marble that held the high ceiling above him. He gazed about him in wonderment, this architecture looked neither Elven nor dwarvish nor even the work of men... this was something else entirely.

 

Bilbo jumped slightly when he realised he wasn’t alone, in front of him, atop a dais sat fourteen ornately carved thrones, some of which were empty but five of them were occupied by four men and a woman. Their occupants had their eyes trained on him and he blushed slightly under their scrutinisation. The men he didn’t recognise... one sat on the central throne, his blue robes billowing over the white marble stone, his eyes were intensely grey but not unkind- they reminded him of Gandalf’s eyes. Atop his head was a golden crown which looked to be in the shape of an Eagle’s wings. Two seats from him was a man whose robes were darker and his face pale and stern which unnerved Bilbo slightly but he didn’t appear threatening. The third man was stocky in build and had a long beard which stretched over his muscled torso to where it ended on his belt. This man wore no crown, Bilbo noted, but he did wear bands of gem encrusted gold around his arms, signifying he was no less important that the others around him.

 

Bilbo’s eyes widened when they fell on the woman sat next to him. He recognised her from his dream he had in the Eagle’s eyrie but he was still none the wiser as to who she was or where he was. She looked almost exactly as she had done in his dream, although now she wore a long green dress and circlet of iris, their leaves weaved together to form a crown on which sat many vibrant yellow and white iris flowers.

 

She smiled at him, “Welcome to Valinor, Bilbo.”

 

Valinor... no that was impossible. Mortals did not come to the undying lands except to reside in the Halls of Mandos. But if this was indeed Valinor... that would mean that he was currently standing in the presence of the Valar. Oh dear, where were his manners, they must think him terribly rude and he hastened to kneel before them, hoping they forgave his slight.

 

A great voice boomed, “Arise child of Yavanna, you need not kneel here.” And Bilbo stood quickly, feeling somewhat idiotic and unsure what to do with himself. The central man, with the winged crown had spoken, Bilbo realised... this must be Lord Manwë, King of the Valar.

 

When the room fell into silence, Bilbo became somewhat uncomfortable and dared to ask, “Forgive me, Lords and Queens of the Valar, but I am at a loss as to why I have been granted this honour to stand before you?”

 

The last man, who was wearing light armour and a bow on his back, chuckled which drew Bilbo’s attention to him. “To thank you of course,” he said, brown eyes warm and smiling. Those eyes...

 

“You...” Bilbo started, no, it could not be... the last time he’d seen those eyes were belonging to another animal entirely- a White Hart in Mirkwood.

 

“Yes, Bilbo,” Oromë answered, “How else do you think those arrows missed me? It has pained me to see, what was once one of my favourite hunting grounds, reduced to a dark, uninhabitable forest where all pure life has fled. Had I not found you, you would have become consumed by the dark of the forest.”

 

“Thank you for helping me,” Bilbo said in awe.

 

“No it is I who must thank you. I have to thank you for urging Thranduil to tend to the forest once again and for aiding in the elimination of the spiders. Perhaps I will hunt there again when the forest is green once more.”

 

“Yes, we are all in your debt,” Aulë added from his seat next to Yavanna. “Thanks to you, my children have been saved from corruption and can restore a once great kingdom. I am just sorry for the pain you have had to endure and will have to endure to ensure their safety.”

 

Bilbo’s chest flared in pain at the bitter reminder of what he’d lost. He’d only just gotten Smaug back, not just in body, but Bilbo could see his soul recovering as well... if he’d had more time, the dragon may not have been lost forever.

 

Unable to speak past the lump in his throat, he nodded in acknowledgement of their thanks.

 

But then Bilbo remembered the help Manwë had given him with the Eagles and, after taking a few shaky breaths to calm his nerves, he turned to the King, “Thank you, Lord Manwë, for saving my life and my companions’ lives by sending the Eagles to us.”

 

The King smiled slightly, “Should you ever need my assistance, my Eagles will come for you.”

 

“Thank you,” Bilbo said again, feeling that, although they said he was in their debt, he’d never stop being in theirs... even though it was their doing that Bilbo had been in this whole mess in the first place.

 

And that left the last man- as Bilbo looked towards him, he still failed to identify him. His dark hair and clothing gave him no indication as to who he was... but as Bilbo looked into the Valar’s eyes, he shivered and felt cold all of a sudden as though there had been a sudden draft but the air was still and warm. It was with that feeling that Bilbo realised this must be Lord Mandos... judge of the dead. But why was he here? Bilbo had done no deeds or service for the Lord.

 

As though sensing Bilbo’s question, and Bilbo’s suspected if he was anything like Galadriel, he probably did, he said all of a sudden, “Do you know _why_ dragons have Heartstones, Bilbo?” The question threw him off guard slightly and he had to fight to maintain his composure.

 

In answer, Bilbo shook his head, he was curious and yet, he’d rather stay off the topic right now... images of the death of Smaug’s family and Smaug himself flickering through his mind.

 

“Normally when a being dies, an Elf, man, dwarf, hobbit, they all come to my halls for judgement and I send them to their place of rest. A dragon has no place of rest in Valinor, until you stepped in they were all corrupted by the greed of gold and served under Melkor. Originally, the Heartstones were created as their source of magic but I twisted the enchantment placed upon them so that they also act as anchorage for their souls. Their soul becomes bound to the stone to prevent them returning to their Master in death who may reincarnate them into another one of his foul servants. Many of them go insane trapped within the stone, unable to reach out to others and being left with nothing except their memories,” Mandos finished and Bilbo understood what he was trying to tell him and warn him of. Perhaps there was a way he could still have Smaug in his life...

 

“Thank you, Lord Mandos,” Bilbo said, nodding his head to show he understood and hope flickered in his chest once again.

 

Yavanna stood suddenly and descended the steps towards him. “Come, my child. Allow me to show you the gardens of Lórien,” she told him. Despite his grim mood, he could not help but feel excited by the prospect of seeing the legendary gardens of Lórien- Lord Irmo’s gardens.

 

Bowing to the Valar, he followed Yavanna outside of the hall and they stepped into the most beautiful garden Bilbo had ever seen. He was so distracted, he didn’t even notice that the building he’d just been in had disappeared behind him. Great trees of Yew, Cedar and Pine formed a canopy above them, their roots disappearing into pools situated between the trees. Flowers carpeted the ground, red poppies, lilies and bluebells were amongst the hundreds of species which must live here, each placed in compliment to another. The air was filled with the soft calls of Nightingales and the smell of pines which made Bilbo feel sleepy as it filled his lungs. But he forced his eyes to stay open to take in every aspect of the garden as Yavanna led him though it.

 

“It’s beautiful,” Bilbo whispered, but that felt like a great understatement. 

 

Yavanna laughed at his amazement, “Lord Irmo will be delighted to hear you say so,” she said, beaming.

 

“Where is my Lord?” Bilbo asked, casting his gaze at the trees around him.

 

“My brother is busy using his energy to shift your consciousness to this place and allow you to speak with us,” she replied.

 

“So none of this is real?” Bilbo asked, feeling somewhat disappointed.

 

“Not quite,” Yavanna said, smiling down at him, “Your soul has been stretched over time and space which has little meaning here. But part of you is indeed in Valinor.”

 

Coming to one of the pools, she stopped and knelt down next to it, gesturing for Bilbo to do the same so that they could stare within its deep waters.

 

Continuing, she said softly, “This is where we come when we want to look upon Middle Earth at our children. In the past few months, I have visited this place often to watch you on your quest and I am proud to call you one of my children.”

 

Looking up into her green eyes, Bilbo asked, “Why me? Why choose me to intervene in this war... I’m just a hobbit.”

 

“Because your soul, despite all the pain and loss you have suffered, has remained wise and kind. This quest allowed part of your soul to heal and although you are not entirely healed, you have clung on to what is good and pure in this world. You have the ability to see and bring out the good in others, no matter who or what they are. Only you could have united the races of Middle Earth and brought the dragons to your side. It was not only your blessing from the dragons which allowed you to call for them, but also your ability to care about the future of a race of creatures and dream of a future that others would not dare to dream of. You have done what no other being would dare to do, and that makes you different,” Yavanna said firmly.

 

Bilbo looked down at the pool, overwhelmed by her kind words.

 

“This pool will allow you to see anything or anyone in Middle-Earth you wish to see. Is there something you would like to see?” she asked him.

 

Bilbo racked his brains... in all of Middle-Earth, what would he want to see? There was the Shire, Rivendell, Smaug, Erebor... but then one thought sprang forward and begged his attention, causing his heart to tug painfully.

 

“Thorin,” he answered, his voice no more than a whisper.

 

Yavanna waved her hand across the pool and immediately the blue depths shifted and swirled in colour before coming into form. Bilbo gasped when he saw, not only Thorin, but himself as well. He saw himself lying asleep on a cot in what appeared to be a tent. Thorin had his head pillowed on the cot next to Bilbo’s thigh, having fallen asleep holding his hand. He looked exhausted, Bilbo noted, dark shadows stretched under his eyes and his hair was messy, it looked as though it hadn’t been washed or brushed in days. Bilbo’s heart swelled to see him, pushing away his grief for a moment as he looked down at the sleeping form of his dwarf. But it would not do for him to be exhausting himself by Bilbo’s bedside, Thorin was a King and he had more responsibilities than looking after a sick, grieving hobbit.

 

“I need to go back,” Bilbo found himself saying.

 

“If you wish it,” Yavanna replied, her eyes smiling as she looked at the devotion Thorin was showing.

 

Bilbo looked up at her in confusion, “I have a choice?” he asked.

 

“If you so wished, Lord Irmo could move your whole consciousness here and into the halls of Mandos, after which you will pass onto my pastures. After all you have been through, I think you deserve some peace,” she said.

 

It was tempting... Bilbo felt no pain here other than his grief and even that felt dulled, as though he’d left part of that behind. Bilbo had done his part... he could move on and allow the races of Middle Earth to carry on what he’d started. But as he looked down at Thorin, he remembered everything he had to live for- a chance of making this work between him and Thorin, even if Thorin drove him mad half the time, he loved him despite of it and because of it. He just hoped Thorin felt the same, but judging by the fact that Thorin was now sleeping at his bedside, their relationship was not entirely without repair.

 

And then there was the company. A bizarre family they made with Dwalin’s gruffness, Ori’s shyness and Bofur’s cheerful nature but they were a family all the same. Not one joined by just blood but one joined by the friendships and a mutual purpose that had driven them together. Bilbo had felt closer to each of them than he had with the vast majority of his family. He would miss Fili and Kili’s pranks, Ori’s drawings and Balin’s words of wisdom which brought calm in times of chaos.

 

But he need not miss them if he went back. Bilbo had a future in Erebor, one where he need not be alone. And a future that he could carve with himself and continue his work with the dragons, ensuring that they did not turn to Morgoth or fade out of existence in the Mountains. It was going to be a hard future... but one that he had to endure. His part was not over yet as far as he was concerned.

 

“No,” Bilbo said firmly, “I still have things I need to do. My life is not over yet.”

 

“I expected no less,” Yavanna said, “I do not think we will meet again for a long time to come. I will warn you, when you go back, some will hail you as a hero, others a tyrant. However, if you stick to your heart and follow what you believe to be right then the future you dream of may yet be realised.”

 

That did little to reassure Bilbo but he nodded in understanding, knowing that the months to come were not going to be easy.

 

“Thank you,” Bilbo told her.

 

“There is nothing to thank, my child. If anything, you should curse us for presenting you with this responsibility.”

 

“This is my choice,” Bilbo reminded her which caused her to smile to spread anew.

 

“Yes it is,” she said, “Farewell, my child. Do not forget to live,” was all she said before the scene melted around him, spreading into darkness before he could reply.

 

And as Bilbo returned to his body, the first thing he noticed was the pain which radiated out from his shoulder. The pain reminded him of what had come to pass before he lost consciousness. Smaug was gone... the friend he’d had was gone. He needed to find Smaug’s Heartstone but would the blessing endure with Smaug’s death? Bilbo didn’t know whether he could do this on his own.

 

Slowly, Bilbo opened his eyes to stare at the canopy above and before he could stop them, tears filled his eyes and spilled onto his cheeks. His breaths came in shaky gasps as pain ripped through his chest, constricting his heart and leaving him breathless. It was only when he tried to move his hand that Bilbo realised that Thorin was still asleep in the tent with him, clutching his hand in one of his.

 

Looking down at the dwarf nestled against his thigh, Bilbo managed a weak smile through his tears. Using his free hand, he ignored the pain in his shoulder and leant over to stroke Thorin’s cheek, relishing in the warmth of his skin and the scratch of his beard which helped to reassure him that Thorin was alive and with him.

 

Feeling the movement, Thorin stirred, his face pulling into a frown as he opened his eyes to stare up at Bilbo. Seeing Bilbo was awake, Thorin shot up, his eyes wide and alert.

 

“Bilbo! You’re awake!” Thorin cried, still clutching Bilbo’s hand.

 

Seeing his dwarf did nothing but bring on a fresh wave of tears, “I’m so sorry,” Bilbo blathered out, causing Thorin to frown.

 

“There’s nothing to apologise for,” Thorin told him firmly, “I should apologise for not having more faith in you. I was going to tell you that, the day you left but then you were gone and I thought I lost you.” Thorin moved his hand to wipe away Bilbo’s tears with his thumb. “Please don’t cry,” Thorin said softly, his face becoming pained, “I’m not letting you go again.”

 

Unable to say anything to that, Bilbo pulled Thorin forward and half sat up to sob into his shoulder, each one racking his body. Thorin just held him in turn, rubbing his back gently and pressing a kiss into his curls. “It’s okay,” Thorin soothed. But in that moment, Bilbo could barely stand the pain and the emotions surging through his body.

 

Bilbo wasn’t sure how long he sat there, staining Thorin’s tunic with his tears, but eventually his eyes dried up and he became emotionally and physically exhausted. Regardless, he kept his hold on Thorin, his hands fisted into his shirt.

 

“Do you think you would be able to get to sleep?” Thorin asked gently.

 

Bilbo nodded slightly and fell back against the cot but he did not relinquish his hold. “Stay with me,” Bilbo pleaded, afraid to go to sleep and face whatever dreams that might plague him.

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Thorin told him. But he understood what Bilbo was asking when the hobbit kept pulling at him and he lifted Bilbo’s blanket to slip under the covers with him. Thankfully the cot was big enough for them both to squeeze on and Bilbo shifted to give him more room and allowed the dwarf to pull him against his chest, enveloping Bilbo in the warmth and security of his arms.

 

But Bilbo still felt too tense and stressed to fall asleep which Thorin immediately picked up on. Thorin started humming, a gentle and soft tune which radiated through his chest and broke through the barrier of clashing emotions in his chest. Bilbo started to relax as his senses became filled with Thorin, his hair tickling Bilbo’s ear and heart beating in his chest; Thorin’s musky smell and the sound of his deep humming giving his mind something else to focus on.

 

His last thought, before he fell to sleep, was knowing that, no matter what lay in store in the future for him, Bilbo could be thankful he wasn’t facing it alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some background info on the Valar if you haven't read the Silmarillion:  
> There are 14 Valar (not including Melkor) who created all of Middle Earth and it's inhabitants. They were created by Eru  
> Yavanna is the lady of the Earth and Nature. The origin of hobbit's is not entirely known but in this fic, and in many other fics, Yavanna has become their creator. She is the spouse of Aulë.  
> Aulë is Lord of the Earth and the Smith, he created the dwarves  
> Manwë is King of the Valar and creator of the Great Eagles  
> Oromë is the Huntsman and Lord of the Forests and sometimes hunted in the forests of Middle Earth
> 
> I hope this all made sense, if anything needs clarifying, don't be afraid to drop me a question in the comments :)
> 
> We're close to the end now, couple more chapters to go. The Next chapter will deal with the aftermath of Smaug's death and Bilbo will be having a chat with Bard.  
> In terms of Bilbo building alliances between the dragons and people of Middle Earth, that is something that will continue in a sequel if there's interest in one, because that is going to take a lot of work and I want to wrap this part up for what I'd intended for 'Black Roses' 
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	25. Reflections of Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo struggles to come to terms with how he feels towards himself and Smaug

Who was he now? That was the question which claimed Bilbo’s thoughts the morning he woke, distracting him from further questions of where he went from here and how he was going to approach Bard the next time he saw him. Bilbo and Thorin had yet to discuss the events after Bilbo had passed out and he still felt too exhausted to even contemplate the future right now.

 

The quest had changed him so much from the hobbit that he once was. Was he now a war hero... or a murderer? Drakunfren... or Bilbo of the Shire? Thorin’s consort or a thief who had stolen the King’s jewel? He didn’t really know anymore. In a sense, Bilbo was all of those things but they didn’t really feel part of him. It was as though he’d become fragmented and scattered, unable to find the pieces of himself that were truly still him, still Bilbo. He guessed he was what he needed to be at the time, but he was still afraid. Bilbo was afraid of what he was capable of and part of that he did not know... but he was terrified of finding out.

 

Bilbo was distracted from his thoughts when Thorin re-entered the tent to bring him breakfast. Thorin had been quiet that morning, saying no more than that he would be getting breakfast and returning soon. And Bilbo knew that Thorin would not be able to share in his grief, he’d lost a friend and Thorin had lost the creature which had killed his people. However, he was thankful that Thorin had not raised the subject and was waiting for him to do so.

 

Leaning heavily on one arm, Bilbo pushed himself into a sitting position to accept the bowl of porridge that Thorin had brought him.

 

“Thank you,” Bilbo murmured, his voice rough from lack of use.

 

Thorin sat on the chair next to him, slowly eating his porridge and eyes lost in thought. Outside, dwarves and Elves passed frequently to visit different tents where their friends or family were being kept or where they were going to help in healing. Occasionally, the backdrop of noise would be broken by cries of grief or pain but Bilbo had quickly learned to ignore it, it did not do to dwell on what he could not change or help.

 

After his stomach felt settled and his head felt clearer, Bilbo felt ready to ask the question he’d been most apprehensive of asking. When Thorin had finished his porridge, Bilbo took a deep breath and asked, “What happened after...?” unable to finish with after Smaug’s death.

 

Thorin froze for a moment, then set his bowl to one side and took one of Bilbo’s hands between both of his which he then kissed, looking up into Bilbo’s eyes. “Are you sure you’re ready to hear this?” Thorin asked gently which sparked more anxiety within Bilbo but he pushed it aside, he couldn’t bear not knowing anymore.

 

“I need to know,” Bilbo answered firmly, moving his free hand to lie on top their entwined ones.

 

Seemingly satisfied by Bilbo’s answer, Thorin started, “You have been asleep for three days. Things have settled down since the battle, many are still confused but everyone has focussed their efforts on clearing the battlefield and healing the wounded. After Smaug was killed, the dragons fled the battle and flew north. For a moment, there looked to be a confrontation between the dragons and men but after seeing Smaug fall, none of them stayed for long.” Thorin paused for breath, allowed his words to sink in before continuing, “When you joined us on the battlefield, the men panicked, thinking Smaug was back for them. It took my whole company and some of Thranduil’s Elves to stop the men from m-... from doing further damage to the body. It was only when Bard told them to leave it that they did.” Bilbo’s stomach lurched at that, knowing what Thorin was implying. He squeezed Thorin’s hand to let him know that he was okay.

 

He forced his breakfast to stay down and his eyes to remain dry so that he could ask, “Where’s his body now?”

 

“I-It’s still on the battlefield,” Thorin replied, “Gandalf has informed me that when a dragon dies, their fire that was once contained within their body spreads and burns the body from the inside out... there’s not much left now.”

 

Bilbo’s heart sank. He’d wanted to see Smaug’s body one last time but part of him was thankful that he didn’t have Smaug’s corpse as his last memory.

 

“I need to go and see him,” Bilbo said firmly. He needed to, before anyone else did... and then Smaug would truly be lost.

 

Thorin frowned, “Are you sure? You need to rest, you lost a lot of blood and your wounds nearly became badly infected. Moving now would risk reopening them.”

 

“Please Thorin, I need to do this,” Bilbo pleaded, his eyes locking with the King’s.

 

Thorin looked as though he was about to protest but then he nodded, “If you’ll stay here and let a healer see you, I’ll take you to him tonight,” he promised.

 

“Thank you,” Bilbo said genuinely, he knew Thorin must be feeling confused and conflicted right now and he was thankful that Thorin understood. “But don’t you have King things you need to attend to?” Bilbo asked, feeling guilty for keeping Thorin when he had a lot of responsibilities.

 

Thorin smirked, “King things?” he repeated mockingly.

 

Bilbo rolled his eyes, unable to stop a small smile playing at his lips, “Your duties,” he clarified.

 

Thorin continued to smile softly, pleased to see his burglar’s spirit’s lifted. “No. Balin is organising the searches and the healers, he’s far better at that than me. Dain is attending to his own men and Thranduil and his Elves have stayed behind to help with the healing... although I believe Thranduil does wish to speak with you before he leaves. I can stop him from seeing you if that is what you wish?”

 

Did he want to see Thranduil? Of that Bilbo wasn’t so sure. But he knew he’d have to face the Elf eventually... he’d have to face them all in the end- Thranduil, Gandalf, Dain and even Bard. He may as well get it over with. “I’ll see him,” Bilbo said hesitantly. “What are the men doing now?” he asked, thinking of Bard which sent a flicker of sadness through him, igniting the grief within.

 

“They’re camped outside of Erebor, not far from here,” Thorin answered, “They’re looking to Bard now more than ever. Some are even talking of having an election, to make him King of Dale when it is rebuilt.”

 

That would mean that Bilbo would be forced to see Bard often if he became King of Dale. Although they hadn’t discussed anything yet, Thorin had implied that Bilbo was welcome to stay in Erebor and Bilbo was not willing to leave Thorin and the family he’d gathered. Bilbo didn’t think he’d be able to cope on his own, going back to the Shire. He had too many demons hanging over him. He decided that he’d go and find Bard before going to Smaug. Bilbo didn’t think he’d ever be able to really forgive him, he still felt too angry and hurt to think of forgiveness... but he knew why Bard had done what he did. Smaug was never going to be accepted by the men and dwarves after what he had done, that Bilbo understood. He just needed to speak with Bard and at least start to quell the man’s hatred. Galadriel’s words- ‘such hatred only destroys’, lingered on his mind.

 

The flap of the tent burst open to admit a very tired looking Gandalf and Oin.

 

“Bilbo Baggins, I have never been more surprised by anyone in all my life and that includes all of your Took relatives put together!” Gandalf blustered in a way of greeting.

 

“Good morning Gandalf,” Bilbo replied solemnly, “I’m afraid I’m all out of surprises though.”

 

Gandalf chuckled, “Oh I highly doubt that my boy. When you are quite recovered, you are going to have to explain to me fully what happened with that stone and in those Mountains.”

 

Bilbo just smiled weakly at the wizard whilst Oin made his way forward. “Let me take a look at that shoulder, lad. The shaft had gone quite deep and severed a few veins on its way in, it’s a good thing Thorin got you in when you did, or it would have been too late to get the ligatures in,” Oin said loudly and Bilbo obediently started unbuttoning his shirt, blushing slightly under his audience.

 

As soon as Bilbo had his shirt off, Oin moved forward to start unwrapping the bandages wrapped around Bilbo’s shoulder. Bilbo winced when he saw what had become of his shoulder. The skin was swollen around the cut but not too red or hot which would indicate an infection. A small and jagged stitched wound ran from his collarbone to his shoulder joint where they’d had to cut the arrowhead out. Orc arrows were notorious for their barbed tips which broke off on entry, making it extremely difficult to remove the entire arrow before infection set in.

 

Not being able to look at the wound anymore whilst Oin cleaned it and applied some poultice, Bilbo looked at Thorin instead and found the dwarf watching him intensely, worry marring his expression. They exchanged a look, and a silent message passed between them, one conveying reassurance that they both desperately needed.

 

Gandalf got out his pipe to smoke whilst Bilbo was otherwise occupied, understanding that the silence spoke volumes at that moment.

 

But silence was not to be kept, especially when two excited princes came running into the tent, their faces beaming.

 

“Bilbo! Thorin told us you were awake-” Kili started eagerly.

 

“And said that we weren’t to disturb you till after you’d seen a healer,” Fili continued. Oh it really gave Bilbo a headache when they did that.

 

“But we couldn’t wait to see that you were okay!”

 

“So here we are!” Fili finished.

 

Thorin frowned at them, “Boys,” he warned.

 

“It’s okay,” Bilbo told him softly, “They can stay.” He needed the distraction if nothing else and their playful nature was the perfect distraction.

 

“Thanks Uncle Bilbo,” they said together.

 

“Is it true what everyone’s saying Bilbo- that you rode into battle on a dragon?” Kili asked excitedly and Fili subtly punched him to tell him to shut up. Bilbo winced at the question, well it was clear that impulsiveness ran in the family but Bilbo didn’t really mind, the way Kili put it made it seem almost like it hadn’t really happened to him as it had happened. That it had been some insane rumour or something glorifying or heroic... not that he’d been clutching onto Smaug’s back, terrified for his life and had ended with him being injured and Smaug being killed.

 

Bilbo managed a small smile to placate Kili’s guilty expression, “Yes, it’s true,” he answered, perhaps he’d give more of an explanation later, but for now, he just wanted to pretend that hadn’t happened.

 

“How is the rest of the company faring?” Gandalf asked, and Bilbo felt grateful for the change in topic.

 

“Everyone is recovering,” Fili started, his face becoming serious, “Dwalin’s lost two of his fingers to a goblin sword but it shouldn’t stop him wielding an Axe. Nori’s been rendered deaf in one ear after an Orc knocked him unconscious. Would have killed him too if Bifur had not been there. But we’re all lucky all things considered, nothing major apart from the odd cuts and bruises.”

 

It lightened Bilbo’s heart to know the company was safe, but he still mourned the loss of Dwalin’s fingers and Nori’s hearing, as a guard and a thief, both of those would be sorely missed.

 

“Good, good,” Gandalf mused, “The losses are not as high as we expected it seems.” And Bilbo didn’t miss the implication that it was because of his unexpected intervention which had turned the tides of war. Even if he didn’t know exactly who he was anymore, Bilbo would never see himself a hero... to him, war heroes were reserved for fairytales and those who had made great sacrifices, not Bilbo.

 

Oin stepped back when he finished re-bandaging Bilbo’s shoulder, “There you are, lad. It’ll need cleaning and redressing everyday to keep an eye on that swelling. It’s unclear yet whether you’ll have any lasting damage or stiffness in the shoulder or arm but it should make a recovery all the same providing you don’t move it.”

 

“Thank you, Oin,” Bilbo said honestly as he attempted to slip his shirt back on but ended up twisting it around his wrist because of the stiffness of his shoulder. Thorin was immediately at his side, helping him slip his arms into his sleeves and going as far as to button his shirt for him. Bilbo didn’t have the heart to tell him that he could do it on his own, he knew Thorin needed to feel useful.

 

“Can we go now?” Bilbo asked Thorin, knowing that the dwarf had said ‘tonight’ but if he waited any longer, he’d end up talking himself out of it.

 

Thorin frowned, “Do you feel strong enough?” he asked, one of his hands coming to rest of Bilbo’s uninjured shoulder.

 

“Yes,” Bilbo replied as strongly as he could, “I took an arrow to the shoulder, there’s nothing wrong with my legs.” And Bilbo demonstrated by swinging his legs over the bed and steadily getting to his feet. He wobbled for a moment and Thorin steadied his with a hand on his arm.

 

“Wait, where are you going?” Kili asked, both the prince’s faces filled with concern.

 

Bilbo thought for a moment before answering, “There are some people I need to see and an issue I have to take care of before time renders things too late.”

 

“Can we come with you?” Fili asked.

 

Bilbo hesitated, did he want an audience? But then again, having them with him may give him the support he needed to face Smaug again. “Of course,” Bilbo answered.

 

“Well if you’re walking about with that shoulder then I’m coming too lad, just in case those stitches re-open,” Oin added, his ear-trumpet held high. Bilbo resisted the urge to smile at their protectiveness.

 

And so, with Thorin’s hand holding Bilbo’s arm, the four dwarves, hobbit and wizard exited the tent and headed through the camp.

 

“I need to go see Bard,” Bilbo said to Thorin who looked shocked at his request.

 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Thorin asked and Gandalf also shot Bilbo a concerned glance.

 

“I-I just need to speak with him,” Bilbo said, his anxiety and grief flaring in one.

 

Thorin didn’t answer but continued to lead him through the maze of tents. As they passed many Elves and dwarves on their way, Bilbo couldn’t help but notice the strange looks he was receiving. Some bowed their heads at him, and one elf even murmured “Drakunfren” as he passed, in acknowledgement. Others, mainly dwarves, glared at him or turned away from the party in disgust which made fear pool within Bilbo’s belly... hero or tyrant indeed.

 

Judging by the way Thorin’s hand tightened on his arm and the fact Thorin’s jaw was now firmly clenched, Bilbo was not the only one to notice his reception. He forced himself to look away from the stares and whispering groups and move his arm out of Thorin’s grip so that Bilbo could link hands with Thorin, squeezing his hand to let him know that he was alright.

 

If he was honest, he really shouldn’t be surprised, going by what Kili had said, Bilbo was now the talk of Erebor- the hobbit who had ridden Smaug the Terrible into battle to destroy Azog’s army... the Hobbit who had aligned himself with dragons and shown himself to be one of them. Bilbo knew he couldn’t expect a peaceful life after this.

 

The reactions from the men were the worst. One man went as far as to spit in Bilbo’s direction. Fili had had to hold Kili back from going after him, knowing that doing so would only worsen whatever poor relations were festering between them. Bilbo hoped that this didn’t affect the alliances held between the men and dwarves. He hoped that the help the men would be given to rebuild Dale would be enough to prevent further skirmishes. But this was why he needed to see Bard, not to offer forgiveness but to ensure no lasting bad blood existed between them. They could work together, even if they’d never be able to look in each other’s eyes or share a joke over a pint.

 

Finally, they came to a large tent that must belong to Bard and they stopped to stand before it.

 

Turning to face the group, Bilbo said, “I need to go in alone.”

 

Immediately, he was met with five disapproving faces. “Do you think that wise, Bilbo?” Gandalf asked him, clearly concerned that Bilbo intended to do something drastic.

 

“Don’t worry Gandalf, I just wish to speak with him,” Bilbo assured him. He didn’t wait for an answer before he turned his back on the group and entered the tent, trusting them not to follow.

 

Inside the tent, Bard and Thranduil were sat having a discussion over a roughly carven table.

 

“- if you could just assist in moving my people to Dale,” Bard said firmly, clearly irritated by the Elf who just continued to look at him as though bored with the discussion.

 

Not wishing to intrude any further on their conversation, Bilbo cleared his throat to draw their attention. Immediately their heads whipped round in his direction, Thranduil’s eyes widening in surprise and Bard’s face turning pale.

 

“Bilbo!” Bard gasped out at the same time Thranduil said, “Drakunfren!”

 

“Good to see you again, King Thranduil, I apologise for the secrecy at our last meeting. I hope you harbour no ill feelings after my last visit,” he said politely, ignoring Bard for now.

 

Thranduil smirked down at him, “Well, when the first Drakunfren in centuries walked into my halls, I didn’t expect you would be a hobbit. Care to tell me how you managed to walk through my halls invisible? Or how the dwarves miraculously escaped just a day after your visit?” he asked.

 

“I’m sorry, Thranduil, but I’m afraid that information must stay with me. You must allow me some secrets,” Bilbo said as pleasantly as he could, forcing himself to prevent him from shaking from the sheer volume of emotion he was keeping at bay by standing so close to Bard.

 

Thranduil frowned, displeased by his answer, “I expected you to say that,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

 

“Then more fool you for asking the question,” Bilbo said, wanting to kick himself for his cheekiness but the Elf had tried his patience too far and he was not in the mood to be on the receiving end of his judgement after having that done for him whilst walking through the camp. Thranduil sucked in a breath at Bilbo’s boldness but Bilbo continued, “I thank you for honouring our agreement and I will uphold my end of the bargain and ensure the gems promised to you are given in good faith.”

 

That seemed to settle the flare of anger in the Elf’s eyes and he bowed his head in acknowledgement of Bilbo’s words, “Drakunfren.”

 

“Forgive me, King Thranduil, but if you’ll allow me to speak with Bard alone?” Bilbo asked, willing his voice not to shake as he saw Bard freeze out of the corner of his eye. Apparently the man wished to continue being ignored, but Bilbo had words which needed to be said.

 

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed at the dismissal, “Ah yes, I suppose you wish to discuss the loss of your dragon.” And with a sweep of his robes, he got up to exit the tent.

 

Unable to stop himself, Bilbo called after him, “Smaug wasn’t my dragon... he was my friend, before.” Before he'd died... Before he’d become twisted and attacked the dwarves and men, before he’d left and chosen to kill thousands based on a rumour about a stone. And yet, Bilbo couldn’t help but feel something towards the dragon, he’d loved him like a father would love a son after all. But, Bilbo still wished he’d had time to bring the friend he’d lost back. 

 

Thranduil seemed to understand his implication and paused at the tent entrance, half turning his head to nod before leaving Bilbo and Bard alone.

 

Steeling his emotions, Bilbo looked up at Bard and found the man watching him curiously and his eyes almost suggested he was afraid of Bilbo. Taking a deep sigh, Bilbo went to sit across from the man, where Thranduil had been sat.

 

They sat in silence for a minute, which could have been an age, neither of them sure what to say to one another.

 

Bard was the first to break the uncomfortable silence, “I’m not sure what your exact relationship is with the dragon... but you must know, he killed my wife and destroyed my home. He had to atone for his crimes. How could I trust that the beast would not turn on my family again? Or that he wouldn’t destroy our homes and kill us all?” he insisted.

 

“You couldn’t,” Bilbo answered simply, “But too many lives have been taken in the name of what could have been,” he added, thinking of Smaug’s fallen family, “I have not come to damn you for what you did... E-even if I wish I’d had more time to bring back my friend... I understand why you did what you did. You killed him out of fear and hatred, which was not unfounded or unjustified. I just hope you are now able to release the hatred you have harboured and that it died when you killed Smaug.” Bilbo paused for breath, his hands clenching and unclenching in an effort to control his emotions. “I have come to ask for your help.”

 

Bard looked at him surprised, “You need my help?”

 

“Yes,” Bilbo answered, “The men of Woodlandale now look to you. I need your help in building a future between the many races of Middle Earth. Not just the Elves, Dwarves, Men and Eagles, but also the dragons. They have been pushed into the Grey Mountains where they have become starved and desperate. Unless we extent our hand to them, then they’ll turn elsewhere and I fear that next time, they will turn to Morgoth and his ilk. This will not be the last war in Middle Earth.”

 

Bard frowned whilst he processed Bilbo’s proposition, “You do realise they are calling me Bard the Dragon-slayer? No dragon is going to align himself with me,” he pointed out.

 

“I know. But the only person who can change your image is you. Those dragons in the Mountains are not Smaug, I need you to put aside your past hatred and convince the men that the future need not be one where bad blood lingers unnecessarily,” Bilbo insisted.

 

“What you ask of me is nigh impossible,” Bard said, shaking his head, “The men do not easily forget. How can we be sure that the dragons do not walk in Smaug’s footsteps, that they do not attack us?”

 

“Because in case you haven’t noticed, they fled as soon as Smaug fell and I disappeared from battle. They are afraid and are few in number. They lack even a fraction of the strength Smaug had, they would not dare to attack a strong alliance of Elves, Dwarves, Men and Eagles. They will answer to me,” Bilbo said confidently. He wasn’t sure whether they would now that Smaug was gone, but they had followed him once, they may still follow him again.

 

“I...I will need to think on this,” Bard said cautiously.

 

“I understand,” Bilbo said, “I will give you all the time that you need since I will not be able to travel for many months now. I am needed here as well,” thinking of Thorin and the rebuild of Erebor. He still had part of his life he needed to live as well before he started a revolution.

 

Feeling his self-control start to wane, Bilbo got up and said, “I-I think that concludes everything I needed to say.” And he turned to walk out of the tent, his bottled emotions writhing within him.

 

“Bilbo?” Bard called after him.

 

Half turning, Bilbo waiting for the man to continue, unable to form words past the lump in his throat.

 

“I’ll try and get the men to understand,” Bard assured him, “I don’t think you’re a bad person and I don’t feel your intentions were poor. I wish I could apologise for taking your friend’s life, but I can’t say that I wouldn’t do it again.”

 

Bilbo stilled for a moment, unsure how to proceed. In answer, he just nodded shakily, gasping out a “Thank you,” before walking out of the tent to meet his friends who were waiting for him.

 

Bofur and Dwalin had joined the group in his absence and they threw him reassuring smiles which he failed to return. Seeing Bilbo’s emotional fragility, Thorin laced his fingers with Bilbo’s and squeezing gently as he asked, “Do you want to go back to your tent?”

 

Bilbo shook his head and Thorin continued to lead him through the camp, heading towards the outskirts where the battlefield began. Even though he kept his head bowed, Bilbo noticed he received less attention than he did before and he suspected that was mainly due to the fact that Bofur was openly picking his nails with his dagger and Dwalin flexed his remaining fingers dangerously every time he caught someone staring.

 

When he reached the battlefield, Bilbo almost turned back. He’d almost forgotten about the bodies that would still be lying there. And even though the bodies were mainly those of Orcs, Goblins and Wargs, he still couldn’t help but think of all the bodies he’d seen in his dream and how much worse this could have gone.

 

Many people were still out searching for their fallen friends and family, some having crouched on the battlefield to mourn them when they found their body. Thorin drew Bilbo into his side, forcing Bilbo’s ear to become pressed into his chest so that Bilbo could not hear the cries and screams of sorrow so loudly.

 

They weaved between bodies and destruction until they finally reached the resting place of Smaug. Extracting himself from Thorin’s hold, Bilbo made his way towards the body which was now just a pile of ash and charred bone and even that was also quickly disintegrating before Bilbo’s very eyes. Smaug’s fire as indeed swallowing what was left of his body.

 

Closing his eyes so that he didn’t have to think about the remains in front of him, Bilbo reached out with his mind as he had done with the Heartstone, searching for any sign of consciousness. He was thankful at that moment that Smaug had left the Arkenstone and his mother’s Heartstone within the Grey Mountains; this would allow him to focus on finding Smaug alone.

 

When his search came up empty, he started to panic, fearing that the Heartstone had been taken or that he’d lost his abilities. But just as he was losing hope, a glimmer of something flickered across his consciousness and he locked onto it, opening his eyes. Having no patience, Bilbo headed towards the pile of ash where he was sure he’d felt Smaug’s presence. As he reached the ash, it shifted in the wind to reveal an orange and golden orb- Smaug’s Heartstone.

 

Almost sobbing in relief, Bilbo hastened to pick the stone up and cradle it in his palms, the warmth reassuring him that Smaug was there. Closing his eyes once more, he reached out towards the stone and frowned when he felt nothing. Trying again, Bilbo failed to find any flicker of Smaug’s consciousness within the stone. He’d been so sure that he’d felt something... but perhaps that had just been his mind playing tricks on him, that mixed with blind luck in finding the stone.

 

Tears leaked over Bilbo’s cheeks once more as he opened his eyes to stare at the stone. And when he still felt nothing, his hand dropped to the side, still clutching the stone but now he just stared at the ash in front of him. This had been his one chance to speak to Smaug again and slowly bring back the friend he’d lost but now that had been taken from him too. What was he supposed to do now?

 

Unable to watch Bilbo’s lost expression anymore, Thorin slowly walked towards him, giving him enough time to move away should Bilbo want to be alone. But Bilbo let him approach and pull him into an embrace, needing to feel the contact of another being, even if it wasn’t the one he’d searched for.

 

He still had Thorin and the company, Bilbo reminded himself, that was enough to fill any lonely moment he may experience in the future. Even if his future was not going to be easy, Bilbo could be sure of success in at least this aspect of his life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry more angst :( I'll put you all out of your misery next chapter don't worry for a short but sweet ending
> 
> So, one more chapter to go :( kinda sad that it's nearly over but I've had a lot of fun writing this and I thank each and every one of you for reading this and supporting my work.  
> The last chapter will be rounding things off and is shorter than my usual chapters (about 1.5k words in contrast to the last chapters being 4-5.5k words) for this fic but it'll hopefully explain a few things (like why I chose this title) so I hope you don't mind the shorter length, it's just because it's the epilogue so there's no heavy plot content
> 
> In terms of how Bilbo views Smaug, he's still somewhat conflicted which is why he wanted his Heartstone again, to have some closure at least since they hadn't exactly had time to have a proper conversation. Smaug is still family to Bilbo but his death is not going to be a quick fix forgiveness move, as much as I'd like it to be (Smaug is a very two -sided character, on the one hand he cares for Bilbo and is capable of great things but he does have a pretty horrific past with what he's done to others), so that's not something I'm going to rush here... anyway, more on that next chapter
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	26. Epilogue: Wildfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Wildfire has the curious ability to destroy almost all life in an area and wipe the slate clean for nature to paint its canvas anew- Life will persevere'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the end of Black Roses and everything I intended for this part :( I can't believe it's over, 1-2 months writing this, 100k words in that time. Bloody hell, that's a lot of writing haha 
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has read this, whether you have followed me since the beginning or have just picked this up. 300+ kudos, nearly 100 bookmarks, 150+ subscribers and the loveliest comments- I have been blown away by your support =^-^= x
> 
> I hope you enjoy this final installment!

_2 months later_

Maybe Smaug deserved death, perhaps he deserved to be trapped in a prison of stone where he would be forced to reflect on his good memories as well as the bad. But Bilbo could not find it within himself to condemn him, Smaug had both saved and killed thousands- did that earn him damnation or a second chance? Of that, Bilbo was not so sure. But Bilbo could not help but wish he’d had a chance to say goodbye and part from Smaug in friendship.

 

However, all that remained was to look to the present and live each day as it came. Bilbo and Thorin were still slowly coming to terms with everything that had happened and been revealed in the past few months. It was going to take time for them both to recover both emotionally and physically from this, something which Bilbo needed to do before he tried to start a revolution. Yavanna had reminded him not to forget to live and he fully intended to remember that- for Thorin and his own sake. War would not come for a few more decades at least, until then he had time to plan and slowly build relations between the dragons and people of Middle Earth. A cease on hunting dragons in the North had been called and Bilbo hoped that the alliance would grow from there.

 

The looks of disgust Bilbo had received had diminished over time, partly through Bard's efforts and the respect Thorin had gained during the battle and also partly from the fact that everyone was trying to forget what they'd lost in that battle and the horrors they had seen. Time tends to glorify such events it would seem. And whilst they hadn't gone completely, it was enough for Bilbo to have a semblance of normality for a brief period of time. 

 

Bilbo had done his part; he’d united the races of Middle Earth and saved Thorin from madness as well as death. Word had spread throughout the whole of Middle Earth of the legendary battle in which Men, Elves, Dwarves, Eagles and Dragons had united against the evil spawn of Morgoth. It had been called the battle of the five armies, not for the fight between the forces of good and evil, but for the unlikely alliance of five races that had, for a moment at least, pushed aside their differences and stood together. It was a story which would inspire such alliances in the wars to come, a future where the races of Middle Earth were no longer so distinct and separate from one another.

 

The knowledge that such a future was possible reassured Bilbo if nothing else and he often reflected on this when tending to his garden on the Lonely Mountain that Thorin had gifted to him. Gardening always helped calm him down and allow him to think rationally. This place especially had become a safe haven away from the politics of the Mountain and the demons which followed him.

 

And so that was how Thorin found him, two months after the battle, trimming the leaves and stems of a Black Rose bush that was only just coming into bloom.

 

Bilbo saw Thorin kneel down next to him out of the corner of his eye and he paused in his trimming to smile at his dwarf.

 

“Good day?” Bilbo asked gently, knowing that Thorin had had a busy day at court, arranging the reclamation of Erebor and the rebuild of Dale. The Mountain had a long road to recovery, but with help coming from the Elves, Men and Dwarves, everyone was slowly returning to their old lives. Bombur, for example, was head of catering and Bofur and Bifur had returned to Toy Making- such trinkets had become much loved in the weeks after the battle, it was something that always brought a smile to their owners faces. Ori had started restoring the library and the books damaged by 10 years of neglect. Bilbo tried to help where he could, but his help in the library was limited with his poor Khuzdul and he often flitted between helping Ori and Bombur to helping Thorin with the council meetings. 

 

Thorin just smiled tiredly, leaning forward to kiss Bilbo’s lips before pulling back to wrap an arm around the hobbit’s waist and bury his nose in Bilbo’s curls.

 

“I see,” Bilbo chuckled, not a great day then. “I’ve come up with a plan for this garden if you’d like to hear?” knowing Thorin just liked to hear his voice even if he wasn’t particularly interested in gardening.

 

“Please,” Thorin sighed, moving to look where Bilbo was pointing.

 

“These two beds here I’m going to use to grow herbs and the like, Thyme, Rosemary, that sort of thing. In the space over there, I think they’ll just be enough room to plant the Acorn I picked up from Beorn’s garden, it’s roots shouldn’t damage the other beds. And here I’m going to grow my Roses, I was well-known within the Shire for my Roses, have I ever told you that? They’ll have enough support here and enough shelter from the winds over the Mountain to not become damaged-”

 

“You told me once that all flowers had a meaning and significance. If you don't mind my asking, would you tell me what Black Roses signify?” Thorin asked softly, interrupting his rambling, not that Bilbo minded. This was the first time Thorin had asked specific questions about his project.

 

Bilbo paused for a moment, contemplating how he would answer before replying, “That depends who you ask,” he chuckled, “In the language of men, they call them the ‘Last Goodbye’. They are given to those who are embarking on a journey that they are not expected to return from, usually war or when someone passes away. In that case, the roses are laid on their graves or buried with the body.”

 

“So when that woman in Woodlandale gave you a Black Rose...” Thorin prompted.

 

“She was basically saying that she did not expect us to return. I do not know why she gave it me above everyone else but I suppose, if she knew anything of hobbits, then she’d know I’d know the meaning of the flower. It’s a pretty morbid gift, I admit, but to men, to give such a rare gift is not seen as insult,” Bilbo said, leaning his head onto Thorin’s shoulder.

 

“But what do they mean to you?” Thorin asked.

 

Bilbo smiled, “To hobbits they don’t signify death or loss as they do to the Men. They remind us, that no matter how dark or hopeless things seem, with a little bit of nurture, life can carry on, even after death and tragedy.”

 

Thorin was silent as he processed Bilbo’s words and after a few moments, he extracted himself from the embrace so that he could fiddle with something on his wrist. Bilbo mourned the loss of warmth but he waited patiently whilst Thorin untied the blue length of leather that he’d kept wrapped around his wrist.

 

As Thorin ran the leather between his fingers, he said, “This was my brother’s. After Erebor had fallen, he kept it as a reminder of our lost home. We didn’t have many possessions from the Mountain. After he... after he died, I kept it as a promise that I would come home and reclaim what we’d lost.”

 

“And now you have,” Bilbo reminded him, studying Thorin’s expression that was not entirely sad, there was some contentment there too.

 

“And now I have,” Thorin repeated and he moved forward to tie the leather band around the main stem of the Rose bush, the blue contrasting beautifully against the black and green.

 

They entwined their hands and looked down at the Rose bush for a few heartbeats. It now stood as a reminder of old promises kept and in that moment a new one was made- a promise to nurture the future they had together. To not forget to take a few moments out of the chaos surrounding their lives, to live and breathe as though they were just any other couple- not Drakunfren and the King under the Mountain, just Bilbo and Thorin.

 

Slipping his hand into his pocket, Bilbo pulled out Smaug’s Heartstone and placed it at the foot of the Rose Bush so that it was sheltered against the elements and nestled against the soil. He couldn’t think of a more peaceful resting place for the dragon’s soul.

 

Bilbo had not been able to contact Smaug since finding the stone, it was as though a barrier existed around it. But now, with hope renewing in his chest, he tentatively reached out with his mind to the stone and gasped slightly when another mind met his and a whisper sounded through his consciousness-

 

“ _Bilbo_ ,” which was gone as soon as it had come but Bilbo laughed giddily in relief all the same. Smaug was still there!

 

Turning to smile at Thorin who was frowning slightly at Bilbo’s sudden outburst, he whispered, “It’s okay,” and really it was, there was much they had to do and recover from, but they were on the right path for doing so.

 

When Thorin continued to frown at him, he squeezed the dwarf's hand and added, "I love you."

 

Thorin's face softened at the words which had been much implied over the past months but never truly uttered, "I love you too, Amralime," he said and moved forward to pull Bilbo into a deep kiss that only helped to spread the warmth in his chest through it's soft assurance. 

 

They now had a chance to re-grow everything that they’d lost. Everything Bilbo, Thorin and Smaug had lost in the past thirty years could begin again, perhaps not exactly as it had been. But then, they now had a chance to make things better- a chance to stop the past from repeating itself.

 

And so it was, with renewed hope, that Bilbo dared to dream again of a brighter future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The meaning of black roses was inspired by 19th century culture and from my own personal life. The main meaning I'm going for is that Life doesn't end just because awful things happen, you can always begin again if you give the time and care to do so :) which is why I'm ending this part here, these characters now have a chance to rebuild everything they've lost, Bilbo- his friendship and sense of identity, Thorin- his home and family, and Smaug- his soul
> 
> So now, I ask you, what do you want to see next?  
> There's definitely room for a sequel. The main plot would revolve around Bilbo building relations between the dragons and people of Middle Earth and what's going on with Smaug's soul. But also they'll be more Bilbo/Thorin. Anyway, let me know if you're interested and if there's anything you'd like to see in a sequel like events and certain characters or relationships ect. 
> 
> I could also go back and write what happened to Smaug after he left Bilbo if that's of interest too? It would be a much smaller fic than this, just a small spin-off documenting in more detail what happened between chapters 3-4 of this fic from Smaug's POV
> 
> Let me know what you want and I'll start drafting something up. Updates will probably not be as frequent as they have been for this fic. I'm going on holiday soon and I need to start preparing for Uni but if I start something, I'll definitely finish it eventually. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving me a comment, it really makes the hours and hours I've worked on this worth it :) If you have any questions, feel free to ask as well, I will definitely get back to you
> 
> Since I can't set a date for a sequel atm, if you're a guest and so can't sub, I'll be posting updates for my fics including this series on: http://meg-thilbo.tumblr.com/  
> so if you have tumblr, that's another way you can get updates on this work
> 
> Have a majestic day you wonderful people! x Hopefully, see you soon


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